


These ARE The Tentacles You're Looking For

by die_traumerei



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bondage, Comfort, Consentacles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fandom Trumps Hate, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Penetration, Protective Steve Rogers, Tentacle Sex, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, technically magical healing tentacles, tentacle god steve rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Steve is a many-tentacled octopus-god who really just wants people to stop sacrificing to him and let him be a healer.The Winter Soldier makes a fine sacrifice, in the waning days of Hydra.Having found himself adopting a brain-damaged but utterly charming human, Steve sets out to figure out what the hell to do with and for him. Featuring cuddles, building trust, lots of sex (following the trust being built), an over-eager Steve who is only about 60% aware of how humans work and, eventually, a Bucky who won't get out of bed for less than double penetration because his life as the spoiled concubine to an all-powerful god is *exactly* what the universe owes him, thank you very much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gravyboot, congratuations on winning the Fandom Trumps Hate auction!
> 
> And thanks for that new kink too, I guess.
> 
> (NB: this is going to be a really, really porny story. No, pornier than that. Keep going. Keeeeeep...yeah. About there.
> 
> That said, it's a little bit of a slow burn -- Bucky is in no state to start a consenting sexual relationship at the beginning of the story. He'll get there, it'll just take some time first.)

The grand magus made the final adjustments, and nodded to himself. What better proof of Hydra's total power, than to have the blessing of a g _od_?

There were many gods of course, but this one – this one would truly be a part of Hydra. A terrible, many-tentacled god. Horrific deaths were attributed to him, and gruesome sacrifices his requirement. Both of which were exactly aligned with Hydra.

Order would come about, with a god on their side.

 

That night, the ritual began. The great and good of Hydra filed into the room, taking their places around the circle scribed in blood and oil, gleaming slickly in the torchlight. Two of them marched the Winter Soldier into the room.

He was the pride of Hydra, the Asset. Stronger than any man, able to fight through any pain, a vicious, skilled killer. He was the only sacrifice worthy of the tentacled god. They would be able to make dozens – no, _hundreds_ – of Winter Soldiers.

Chants echoed around the room, filling it with an eerie wall of sound. The sigils glowed, and the sacrifice was shoved into the center of the circle, ready to be killed. He didn't react, of course. Tools never did.

The grand magus intoned the last required words, and held his breath.

And then he was there. A man, tall, golden. Well; a man to his waist, and then. Tentacles, below and behind him, all different shapes and sizes, a thousand colors, coruscating. Moving constantly, waving, curling through the air.

The grand magus stepped forward, and gestured towards the Soldier. “Your sacrifice, my lord.”

The god sighed.

“He is our greatest Asset. The finest warrior of all time.”

“He's a brainwashed shell,” the god said slowly, as though tasting something. “You've stripped his free will. You _made_ him into a weapon.

And then the god got angry.

The Soldier didn't flinch. He didn't seem to be paying much attention – he'd been told to wait for his death, that this would be the finest honor and glory. The last step to total world order.

When the god finished with the people in the room – which took some time – he turned to the last one left alive, his sacrifice.

“You're free,” he said gently, and the Soldier looked at him.

The Soldier was tall and slender. He had blue eyes and dark hair and a haunted face. The god gave him a little poke with one of his longer tentacles. “You're free,” he repeated.

“I was supposed to die for you,” the man said.

“Well you're not,” the god said, and got a blank look for his troubles.

This was wrong. This was so very, very wrong. This man had been abused; the god could taste it in the air. Beyond abused. No one should ever have to suffer this, and a white-hot flame of anger grew in the god's belly. He had killed the others in this room too slowly.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked gently, careful not to startle. “I can take you home with me. Give you food, and a place to rest.”

The Soldier considered this, and then nodded. He needed to maintain the body, until his new masters arrived.

“All right, the god said, and reached out. A hundred tentacles wove themselves around the Soldier, holding him gently, securely, and they returned to the god's realm.

 

The god let go as soon as he could, not wanting to harm the man any further. The man looked around curiously.

“So, uh. This is my realm,” the god said.

The man looked at him.

“Do you...have a name?”

“I did. Once.” The man looked away. “Now I'm the Asset.”

“Well, I'm not fucking calling you _that_ ,” the god said firmly. “How about Winter?” They had called him the Winter Soldier. Winter was a time of rest, when the earth renewed itself; the god knew that much. Names had power; the god _definitely_ knew that.

Winter shrugged, but didn't protest.

“You can call me Steve,” the god said.

Winter gave him a dead-eyed stare. “Steve?”

“Steve.”

“All right.”

“Are you...tired?” Steve tried. Most of his encounters with mortals involved being summoned to kill someone or rule this world or bring on the forces of darkness or blah blah blah. But he was pretty sure that humans slept.

“No,” Winter said.

“Uh. Hungry? Thirsty?”

Winter paused. “This body must consume calories,” he said.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Steve said dryly, and extended a tentacle, branching it out from his shoulder. It was pale green and sparkled in the light – they were in the cave that Steve had made his home, infinite rooms joined together, impossible light sources filling the huge space.

“Suck on the tip of it,” Steve said, and the Soldier obediently opened his mouth.

Steve felt warm, chapped lips close around the soft skin of the tentacle, and tried not to jump. It had been a long time since he'd been touched.

Winter closed his eyes and suckled, startling when the nutritious goo started to flow. He opened his eyes, wrapped a hand around the tentacle to hold it in place, and pulled his head back to meet Steve's eyes. “It's sweet. It tastes like plums.”

“Good?” Steve tried. He'd selected the one with the best range of nutrients. Winter wasn't healthy. Steve wasn't entirely sure why, but he could feel it on the man. Something was terribly wrong with him, and Steve fought to hide a surge of protectiveness.

Winter ate for a long time, but finally, delicately, pulled the feeding tentacle free. He licked his lips and watched Steve.

“I made you a room,” Steve said. “Would you like to see it?”

Winter just watched him, so Steve reached out with another tentacle; this one was lavender, with tiny suckers all along the underside of it. He wrapped it lightly around Winter's wrist, and started to pull him along. The tentacle, sometimes, could heal. He wasn't always sure how it worked himself.

Steve's realm was a vast cave. It had started out solely underwater, but grew with Steve's power, and now it encompassed hundreds of realms. He'd made Winter's room close to where he spent most of his time himself.

It was decently sized for a single human, a perfect hemisphere. Steve had made the walls and ceiling blue, with gold stars. He'd seen things like that before on earth, and hoped the human liked them. There was a thick, soft carpet on the floor.

The bed was big and soft, with many pillows and blankets, and there was a desk at the foot, with a chair.

Winter looked around, just a flicker of curiosity in his face. There were windows all around the room; they could show whatever Steve wanted, but they were dark for right now.

“This is for you,” Steve said. “I mean, all of it is, you can go wherever you want. But this is just yours. I won't even come here if you don't want me to.”

“I don't mind,” Winter said, and looked surprised at himself.

“Well,” said Steve. “Anyway. I guess you'll need clothes?”

Winter shrugged.

“I'll get you clothes,” Steve said. “Oh. Are you hurt?”

Winter shook his head.

“Good,” Steve said softly. He had wonderful healing powers, but rarely got to use them. He disliked the idea of Winter being hurt, though. “What do you want to do?”

Winter cocked his head to one side. “I am not clean.”

“Oh. I can take care of that,” Steve said a little proudly. “Take your clothes off, Winter. Please.”

Winter undressed automatically. He was well-built; strong and slender, his only real bulk in his shoulders and arms. Arm, really – how had Steve missed that his left arm was metal?

“What happened to you?” he asked, concerned. The lavender tentacle reached out again, attaching to the scarred skin where metal joined flesh. It tasted like pain, and Steve sent out another arm to wrap around Winter's shoulder and secrete a pain-killing substance.

Winter looked at the dark red tentacle with some curiosity. “I don't remember,” he said, and paused. “I don't remember...anything.”

“We'll work on that,” Steve said gently. “Let's get you clean, first.”

More tentacles, then, a cluster of pearly-white ones with big suckers squirmed all over Winter's body, secreting a sweet, floral goo. Winter smiled at the scent, and held still while he was soaked, then the arms scraped and suckered him dry. He had watched the half-dozen or so tentacles wrap around his body, firm enough not to tickle. The whole process had been over in moments. Steve wondered what he could do to draw it out next time; Winter had relaxed as the tentacles wrapped around him, and seemed to enjoy getting clean.

“Thank you,” he said politely. “I should rest now.”

“Of course,” Steve said. “If you need anything, call for me.”

Winter nodded and climbed into bed, still wholly naked. Steve made his uniform disappear. No more hard leather for this man. That was his past; he had a whole future, where he did _not_ have to be a weapon. Not if Steve had anything to do with it.

Steve waited until he was in bed, and lowered the lights until the room was in twilight. “You can control the lights with your voice,” he said gently. “And please, Winter. Please, tell me if you need anything.”

“I need very little. That's the point of me,” Winter explained, and paused. “But thank you,” he added automatically.

“Sleep well,” Steve wished him, and let himself out. Clothes first, for his human. Then...well. He could make Winter's food himself, and heal him in body. Steve had never healed a human's mind before, but he was going to try. What had been done to Winter was _wrong_ , and what was the point of being a god if you couldn't make it better?

 

Steve spent the next few hours trying to figure out what clothes he should get for his human, and finally decided to just provide a selection. He was pretty sure he managed to narrow everything down to the last century, at least, and probably the rough part of the world the guy was from. He thought? Humans were weird.

There was not a single scrap of black leather involved. He even rejected the stiffer silks, preferring comfort for his human. And Winter had seemed to like the bed, and really seemed to like being cleaned by Steve's soft tentacles. So it was the Steve gave him a vast closet, and filled it with clothes for moving easily.

 

The man slept for long hours, enough so that Steve began to worry if he was getting enough nutrients. His body was thin, ropy muscles barely covering bone. He was hard and weaponlike.

Steve decided he was going to change that.

The man woke just as Steve was fretting over whether to wake him to eat. He didn't seem particularly surprised at Steve (carefully appearing in fully human form) standing next to his bed.

“Hey.” Steve smiled at him, trying to be welcoming and encouraging. “Are you hungry?”

“I...” The man sat up, then went very pale, and put a hand to his forehead. “Shit.”

“Shit!” Steve was at his side in a moment, helping him lie down. His legs disappeared, became a mass of tentacles, and he summoned one quickly to wrap around Winter's wrist. The substance it secreted would help regulate his blood pressure, make sure he was getting enough oxygen, all those strange little things that humans needed.

Steve also manifested a deep green tentacle, and slipped the tip into Winter's mouth. “Eat,” he ordered tenderly, and started the nutrient flow.

Winter suckled, drawing the tentacle further into his mouth, while Steve fretfully monitored his pulse. Winter was terribly malnourished, it was obvious. Weak and underfed.

Well. Steve could do something about _that_ , at least.

 

Winter ate the nutritional goo until he was almost too full, then gently let the tentacle go. He felt...better. Not so gray and dizzy, and the weird octopus-deity who had apparently adopted him was kind so far.

Once Winter was able to take it, he was sure he would be a weapon, the mortal hand of the god. That's what he _was_.

“Better?” Steve asked tenderly. A soft lavender arm, the tiny suckers gentle on his skin, slid across Winter's forehead, and he was filled with a sense of warmth and peace. He was _safe_ here, somehow.

“What are you doing to me?” he asked. These were not feelings he had had since

_back alley_

_brownstone houses_

_the smell of roasting chestnuts_

_the crack of a baseball bat against a ball_

Winter blinked. The memories. They'd come back before.

“I'm healing you,” Steve said quietly. “The way you've been treated isn't fucking right. Winter, it's okay. I promise, you're safe here.” He hesitated. “If you want to leave, you can. Anytime. Just tell me, and I'll take you where you want to go, and leave you, and you'll never see me again.”

Winter peered at him curiously. A test, of course. Probably? No matter. “I'll stay.” He licked his lips. “Can I have more to eat?”

“Of course,” Steve said warmly, and picked another tentacle, a big thick one, one of his favorites.

Winter wrapped his mouth around the smooth appendage, and suckled happily, going by the sounds he was making. He ate for just a minute, before reluctantly pulling away.

“I'll stay with you whenever you're awake,” Steve said. “You can have food anytime you want.”

“Thank you,” Winter said politely.

“Do you want to get dressed?” Steve asked, feeling strangely anxious. He wanted this man to be happy. Hell, he'd settle for content.

Winter shrugged, so Steve took that as a yes.

“Can you stand? Here, I can help you,” Steve rushed to assure him. Huge tentacles, a deep golden orange, surrounded Winter and cradled him, easing him into standing. His heartbeat stayed steady, though, and he nodded his thanks.

Steve kept the diagnostic tentacle wrapped around Winter's wrist, though, until he absolutely needed to unwrap it.

Winter regarded his vast closet with some bemusement. He reached out, and pulled back.

“It's all yours,” Steve said softly. “And if you want anything else, all you have to do is tell me and I'll make them for you. It was...fun, coming up with these.” He smiled ruefully. “I don't really need clothes, you know?”

He was taller than Winter, bare and human to the waist, and a roiling mass of tentacles below, unless he particularly chose to appear human. (Or chose anything else, for that matter.) Any clothes he ever needed appeared at a thought.

Winter looked at him, and surprised Steve (and possibly himself) with a smile. “Bit pricey when it comes to trousers, I guess.”

Steve stared at him.

Winter stared back.

Winter _flinched_. And Steve's heart broke.

He laughed, because it was funny, and because Winter should never flinch at anything, least of all telling a dumb joke. “Pretty much,” he said, and grinned, and Winter gave him the faintest ghost of a smile and it was the best thing to happen to Steve that millennium. It really was.

“C'mon,” he said warmly, and wrapped a tentacle around Winter's shoulders, adjusting the tip so it draped over the seam of scars near his metal arm. It would emit a painkilling substance, just in case. “Let's get you more comfortable.”

In the end, Winter chose loose silk pants and a soft, long-sleeved shirt, both in dark navy blue.

Steve lead him out to the big main room, where he'd recently added a set of very overstuffed chairs. They were dark corduroy, rather cozy he thought, though admittedly a little dull in the vast, glittering cave.

Winter smiled when he saw them, so they were definitely staying.

Steve showed him around briefly (including the small bathroom he'd remembered would be a good idea to attach to Winter's bedroom), reassuring him that he was allowed to wander anywhere he wanted.

“Is there anywhere you want to go?” he asked anxiously. “I can take you anywhere in the universe.”

Winter cocked his head, curious at that. “Can you...I want to see stars. Please?”

Steve grinned. “Is that all? Winter, look up.” He made the ceiling of the vast room fade away, replacing it with his favorite view. Countless stars dotted an impossible deep velvet sky, with galaxies visible here and there, all of it clear. All of it _there_ ; it wasn't a projection, he had simply moved them, and the room, to a new place in the universe, and made the curving ceiling clear.

Winter's jaw dropped. “ _Oh_ ,” he breathed. “It's beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed softly, seeing it through Winter's eyes. It _was_ beautiful, all the spiraling galaxies, the endless stars, and the impossible distance of space. Quietly, he tied this place here, and changed Winter's room so he could see stars through his ceiling.

Winter reached out and Steve coiled a tentacle around his arm, just holding his forearm. Two more, big and thick and strong, came to rest on Winter's back in case he needed the support. And the little lavender one coiled around one ankle, seeping the substance to make him smile and relax and, hopefully, heal.

Winter startled at the soft touch around his ankle, but looked down and smiled. “Hello there.”

“Is this okay?” Steve asked softly. “It can help. If you don't feel well.”

Winter laughed softly. “Steve, my brain is _fucked up_. Does that count?”

“I think so.” Oh, this man was _amazing_. Steve fought back the urge to wrap him up further, protect him from everything.

Winter giggled when the tip of one tentacle tickled him, and stroked it with a gentle fingertip. “Everything is so nice here.”

“Good. I want it to be nice for you,” Steve said. “Is there anything you want? Anything at all.” He smiled, trying to encourage. “I can give you jewelry, if you like, or different clothes. A bigger bed?” What did humans like? The ones who summoned him usually wanted power and riches, but Winter hadn't summoned him. “Uh. Something to read?”

He perked up considerably at that one. “Books? You have books?”

“For you, yes.” Steve gestured to one wall, and it opened onto a cozy library. He had added a fireplace, because why not? The windows looked out onto a desolate stretch of the Yorkshire Dales, just to add to the effect.

“ _Oh_ ,” Winter breathed. “Steve, you're so lucky. This is yours?”

“It's for you, too,” Steve said.

Winter looked at him, eyes blank. “What do you want in return?”

“What?” Steve asked, dumbfounded.

“No one gives things away,” Winter said quietly. “You're giving me such nice things. Too nice. What do you want?”

“There's not a fucking thing in this universe that's too nice for you,” Steve said without thinking.

Winter just looked confused.

Tentacles came around him, gentle, just barely touching, and Steve even uncoiled the one around his ankle for the moment. If Winter wanted, he could be enveloped in affection and touch, or he could turn and walk away. “People did terrible, terrible things to you,” he said quietly. “You know yourself that your mind is...broken. That you're underfed, and your arm is in great pain.” Steve paused, and thought a little while. “I suppose you do give me something. For as long as you choose to stay, I'm not lonely.” He smiled a little. “And if you want me to, I can help heal you. I'm good at that, but no one ever asks me to. I like it – like seeing the pain get drawn out, all of that.” He reached out, two tentacles just resting on Winter's arms, smooth and coral-colored. “You can leave anytime you want. Here.” Steve made a door appear; a plain, wooden door. It opened onto what was unmistakably Central Park. Winter could just make out Belvedere Castle.

“Oh,” he said.

"That will always be there,” Steve said, and closed the door. “I promise, Winter. You can always go home.”

"I don't want to,” Winter said quickly, and reached out, coiling his hand with a tentacle and smiling. “I want to stay here. Thank you, but I want to stay with you.”

“I like you here too,” Steve agreed, and reached out with the lavender healing arm. Winter smiled and met him halfway, encouraging it to wrap around his wrist and petting gently.

“Can you feel it?” he asked suddenly. “When I touch them?”

“Yes, of course. They're me, too,” Steve explained.

Winter looked afraid. “I'm sorry. Am I hurting you? Or bothering you?”

Steve laughed and wrapped a thick tentacle around Winter's waist. “No, not at all. I promise.”

Winter smiled and petted the big tentacle. “Will you come with me into the library? I like...the touching. From them. You, I guess.”

“Of course,” Steve said gently, and they walked into the big room together. Steve kept plenty of space between them – Winter had asked for the _tentacles_ to touch, not Steve – but found himself drawing closer, just to enjoy Winter enjoying the books.

He just walked at first, eyes scanning the shelves, reaching out to touch the spines, pulling back, and then finally resting his hand on a book. Winter pulled it down and, mindful of the healing tentacle around his wrist, started to read.

His smile only grew, and he read as he walked, Steve extremely bemused to take over steering Winter to a big, comfy chair. He got the distracted man settled, and even propped his feet up on an ottoman by the fire.

Winter made a noise that might have been thanks, but was clearly mostly absorbed in the story. Steve ducked down to look at the title – oh, _The Once and Future King_.

He settled in the other chair, content to watch the fire, and summon a book to his hands if he got bored. He remembered, barely, to settle one of the feeding tentacles on Winter's shoulder, and tickle his ear until he looked up, smiled, and opened his mouth to eat.

Steve granted himself a few minutes to watch Winter, comfortable in soft clothes and with his feet up, eating hungrily then letting go to get lost in his book while the fire crackled between them, and he occasionally, absentmindedly, petted a tentacle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY WOW! Oh my God! Hi everybody! Hi everybody's comments! I am blown away by the reaction to this, and I welcome you all to my confusing new kink. We're all in this together, guys.

The problem with adopting a member of an advanced civilization, Steve reflected, was that they didn't really come with a care-and-keeping-of book. If he'd rescued a cat instead, say, there would be volumes upon volumes to choose from.

There were baby-care books, of course. But Winter was a grown man. He had no real memory of anything, other than how to be a weapon, but he wasn't helpless. The problem was, _he_ wasn't a hundred percent on how to care for himself either.

So there were ups and downs. The library was a very big up; Winter went there every day, usually a few hours before he fell asleep. (Half the time he drifted off in the big chair; after the first time Steve had carefully carried him to his bed so he didn't get stiff and sore. Winter never even stirred as giant tentacles curled around him, easing him out of the chair.) Winter was happy in the library, so Steve was happy too, and often spent time with him there, the two of them reading in quiet companionship.

One of the downs happened soon after that first night in the library, and it was entirely Steve's fault.

He had spent the morning showing Winter two galaxies colliding. Steve had kept a protective bubble of oxygen and warmth around them, but he had made the rest of his realm go someplace else, so that they floated in the infinite space. Winter was kneeling, mouth agape at the spectacular sight.

Steve grinned down at him, pretty proud of himself for finding this. Tiny, delicate, grass-coloured tentacles coiled around Winter, nearby but not quite touching. He had looked down and smiled, delicately petting one with his forefinger. He was wearing gray that day, although Steve had noticed he had picked soft silk trousers and a cozy-looking sweater. Winter giggled when one of the little tentacles waved, mirroring the path of his finger, and he'd gently lifted the pretty little thing onto his hip.

Steve smiled and made it coil up, and another came to curl on his other hip. A third wrapped lightly around his ankle, and Winter welcomed it with a little caress.

“You don't mind them touching you?” Steve had asked.

Winter looked up, a little startled as though he had forgotten Steve was there. “No. Of course not. They feel nice.”

Lavender (as Winter had named the tentacle of that hue) had reappeared, and Winter reached out, letting her curl around his wrist with a warm “Hello darlin'.”

Steve just settled in, watching Winter relax under the tiny touches. It felt good to touch him, too. Winter was far too thin, but he was warm and gentle, and just...felt nice. Steve hoped, just a little, that one day Winter would reach for Steve's hands, not just the tentacles that made up his body below the waist.

Winter had watched the universe in awe, and Steve with him. He had planned to return when Winter grew restless, but the man seemed able to wait and watch forever. He perked up, though, when Steve mentioned showing him a new room, and they were instantly back in Steve's realm, in the big main room.

Steve transformed into his human form for this, leading Winter down a corridor to a new room he'd planned while Winter slept.

He opened a door, and they walked into a huge greenhouse, all clear glass held in place with delicate, lace-like iron. The elaborate building was full of plants: ferns and orchids, bromeliads and ivy, fragrant roses and frangipani. There was a little pond with a cascading tiny waterfall; mosses filled that corner. And there were herbs, richly scented, and little seats and grottos scattered about.

Winter's jaw dropped, and he grinned, turning in a slow circle. “ _Steve_. Did you make this?”

“Uh, yeah. If there's anything you don't like, I can change it...”

And Winter _laughed_ , and it was gorgeous and glorious and addictive. “Steve, it's beautiful. It's so beautiful in here.” He darted off to explore a particular corner. “What's this? Tell me about this?” he asked.

So Steve told him about the island where the sweet-smelling flowers grew, and showed him how the sharp grasses could be woven. He and Winter ran around the warm, humid building, more vast than any human could have built, breathing in the perfumed air.

Winter had just finished exploring a sunken grotto, almost a cave, full of ferns and moss, and he was climbing up curving slate stairs just behind Steve when he paused, bending his head and touching his temple. “Oh...”

“Are you all right?” Steve asked, concerned. “Winter, what's wrong?”

“I'm not --” And Winter's eyes rolled back into his head, and he silently fainted dead away.

Instantly there were tentacles around him, as thick around as Steve's chest, brilliant golden-orange and wrapping around Winter, catching him and cradling him. Moments later Steve had them back in Winter's bedroom where he laid the man gently on his bed, the diagnostic tentacle wrapping around his ankle, Lavender already coiling up his arm and more at the ready. Steve tasted the air, pulled in the information he was getting from Winter's body. Something was wrong, very wrong. Something was _missing_.

Steve frowned and concentrated. He was supposed to be _good_ at this. What hadn't he –

“Oh _shit_ ,” he said, as Winter came to. “Fucking _food_.”

“Tell me about it,” Winter mumbled, and Steve reached out without thinking, stroking his brow.

“Shhh, lie still,” he urged. “Winter, I'm so sorry. I'm _so_ sorry.”

“Not y'r fault,” Winter mumbled. “You don't hafta eat, why would you remember?”

“I will never, ever forget again,” Steve swore. Winter's favorite food tentacle appeared, and he touched it to the man's lips. “Here. Just open your mouth a little for me – yeah, like that.” He started the nutritious flow, heartened when Winter licked and sucked at the tentacle. “I won't let this happen to you again.”

Winter just smiled, his eyes drifting shut, as he ate his fill.

He slept afterwards, and Steve sat by his side. He would _never_ neglect his human like this again, and he vowed to find out what else Winter might need. There would be some kind of book, right?

What he found, of course, was a lot of books. But what was being a deity if you couldn't stop time to absorb knowledge? Christ, he should have done this as soon as he'd taken Winter home but, well. No permanent damage done, and when Steve re-entered the timeline, he had a helluva lot better idea about what the poor guy needed.

***

Winter yawned and turned over, snuggling under the heavy blankets. Who owned three velvet quilts? Crazy-ass octopus gods did, it turned out, and Winter was _not complaining_. Whatever Steve wanted out of him, he could have and gladly. Winter would kill for him as much as he wanted, if he got to keep the bed.

And the bedroom. And the library, and the trips to watch stars, and the beautiful atrium full of life and –

Assuming Steve _was_ a vengeful, cruel, vicious asshole (which was likely, since that described every other person in Winter's life), he hid it well.

Winter stirred again and opened his eyes.

“Hey.” Steve smiled at him from where he'd settled at Winter's bedside. “How're you feeling?”

Winter shrugged. He wasn't passing out from hunger anymore, so that was nice.

“Stay in bed,” Steve said, still in that kind voice. “And here, eat this.”

Winter reached for the new tentacle, enjoying the way his mouth fit around it, and the little wriggle it gave against his tongue. The nutritious goo started to flow and –

He pulled the thing out of his mouth and gave Steve a Look. “Spinach?”

“Sorry.” Steve didn't look sorry one bit. “I know you like the other one better, but this has more of what you need. You're pretty seriously undernourished, Winter.” He hesitated. “I'm sorry I let it get bad. Well, worse. I know what to give you now, though.”

Winter made a face, but opened his mouth again, and couldn't help but smile when a pretty shell-pink arm curled around one of his ears. The goo wasn't _bad_ , exactly, but it wasn't good, like the others had been.

He ate until his belly ached with it, and rolled onto his back, rubbing his stomach. It was rounded and full, and he giggled when Steve booped the mound of it under the blankets with Lavender.

“You should probably stay in bed today,” Steve said, while Winter made himself a little more comfortable in his nest of pillows and quilts. “I can bring you anything you like, though.”

Winter smiled at him, feeling sweet and peaceful. Bed wasn't so bad; not this palatial bed, and not with the way he could watch the stars out of his windows. “I don't need anything, Steve. But thank you.”

“You sure?” Steve conjured up the book Winter had been reading. “I'll read to you, if you like?”

Winter smiled shyly. “Really?”

“Really!” Steve laughed and opened to Winter's bookmark. “Gant,” He started to read, “for all his hatred of land ownership, was proud of living under his own shelter, and indeed proud in the possession of anything that was sanctified by his usage, and that gave him comfort.”

Winter smiled and settled down again, one hand curved around his belly, the other playing with a handful of tentacles, their tiny suckers ticklish and nice. Steve's voice was nice too, and it was easy to lose himself in the story again, warm and safe in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I hope you all realize that this story is just Bucky being spoilt rotten and then (when he's ready for it) lots of sex, right? Cool, cool, good. We're all on the same page.
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

Steve kept good to his vow, and made sure to always keep one of the food tentacles handy. Winter was still shy – beyond shy, really – about asking for food for himself, but Steve found that if he gave him a little nudge, he'd open his mouth, ready for whatever Steve had frantically concocted to make sure he could get enough of the dizzying array of everything humans needed to be healthy.

He'd also put an orchard in too; or, rather, found an abandoned orchard and put a door in. Brambles surrounded the place, and gnarled apple trees made up half of the little field. Nut trees made up the other half, and he took the place out of time and gave it to Winter. (And, to be honest, to himself a little bit, too.) The seasons would continue, because that was always interesting, but he'd stolen it in autumn, so there was bounty everywhere for the moment.

So at least there were no more days in bed – not because of this, anyway. Winter never passed out from hunger again, and Steve was quietly satisfied to see him looking rangy, but no longer skeletal.

There were still days spent in Winter's room. Sometimes they were simply because he was tired, a kind of bone-deep tired that meant Steve brought him books and fresh apples and magicked up more pillows so he could read propped up in bed. He added a divan, which Winter found inexplicably hilarious, but also used extensively.

Winter was sweet, but distant, unless he was asleep. Asleep, he sprawled over things, took up space, and curled around whatever was nearby. Since Steve barely left his side, this often meant that his human napped tangled in a half-dozen tentacles, always with Lavender wrapped around his wrist, her healing touch working its way into Winter's bloodstream.

And, once, Winter had fallen asleep with his head on Steve's belly, arms around his waist. Steve had been terrified of moving; had held stock still for nearly an hour as Winter slept deeply. His hair was soft, moreso than Steve would have expected, and the scratch of his beard was...nice. Homely, somehow. He didn't dare touch Winter with his hands, but brought beautiful golden tentacles around his body, and was inordinately pleased when Winter relaxed even further, a ghost of a smile on his face. Winter was light, no weight at all really, but warm against Steve's body, and it felt good to be trusted so much. It felt so good to have someone – no, to specifically have  _ Winter _ – pressed up against him.

 

So time passed; it was always an amorphous thing, but Winter filled out a little, ate his way through the orchard and Steve's nutrient-rich tentacles, and, even in their little pocket of the universe, time passed.

Steve didn't sleep, so he knew Winter was having the nightmare. He was in Winter's room in an instant, as soon as he became aware of his distress.

It was horrible. Steve had witness screaming nightmares before; that kind of thing happened when you _were_ a lot of peoples' screaming nightmare. But Winter was just lying there, twitching, hardly moving, and making the most piteous sound. He didn't sound like grown man, a warrior; he sounded like a child. A soft, choked-off wail, cut off again and again.

Steve curled huge, strong tentacles around him and sent in Lavender to rest on his bared wrist. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Winter, sweetheart, it's a dream, you're safe now.”

Winter gave another horrible, choked moan.

Delicate, snow-white tips of arms started to stroke Winter's temples. “Wake up,” Steve called, afraid to touch. “Wake up, honey, please.”

Winter thrashed, striking out with his left arm and slamming down hard on the tentacle on that side. Steve flinched; Winter had crushed the soft tissue.

Winter's eyes flew open and he sucked in a deep breath, coughed, sat up, and looked at Steve with wide, horrified eyes.

“Sweetheart, you're safe,” Steve comforted. “Winter, look at me, you're safe. Nothing will ever, ever hurt you again. It was just a dream.”

Winter licked his lips, eyes still wide, body still trembling. “Steve, I...”

“Shh,” Steve soothed, drawing closer, the unhurt tentacle gently curling around Winter's shoulders, Lavender fastening a little more firmly around his wrist. “Just breathe, Winter. Everything will be okay.”

“I _hurt_ you,” Winter managed, and it ended in a wail, and he turned and looked at the crushed arm. He reached out with his left hand, hovered for a moment, then pulled back. “Steve, I...”

Steve laughed, and Winter was so startled he looked up and oh. Oh, the fear in his eyes. Steve had killed the men who kept him far, far too quickly. “Oh, sweetheart. That's nothing.” He twitched the arm, and it was healed and unhurt.

Winter reached out and rested his hand so softly Steve could hardly feel it. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered. “Poor thing, you were just trying to help.” He leaned over and kissed the soft white flesh. “It's not your fault,” he murmured. “I hurt things. That's what I do.”

“None of that,” Steve said sharply, and the arm rippled up, joining its twin around Winter's shoulders, wrapping him up warm and safe. “It was an accident, Winter, nothing more.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “You're safe,” he reminded him gently. “Whatever you dreamed about, it can never hurt you again.”

“No.” Winter's smile was sad and wistful, even as he petted Lavender, and leaned his head on the thick tentacle. “It can't.”

“What's wrong?” Steve asked gently. He reached out, unconsciously, with his hands, and Winter reached back with his metal hand, touching their fingers together.

“My name,” Winter said. “I remember my name. It's James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone called me Bucky.” He looked up at Steve, deeply lost for that moment. “I died in 1943. I fell from a train. Steve, am I a ghost?”

“No,” Steve said. And – well, maybe a shitty joke would chase that haunted look from Winter's eyes. “Trust me. Ghosts do not eat three thousand calories a day, and that's _before_ we start counting the chocolate-flavored one.”

Winter (or Bucky, rather) started, looked guilty for a moment – Steve's nonexistent heart actually stopped – and then he laughed. Encouraged, Steve grinned at him, poked his cheek with the chocolate-flavored tentacle, and grinned wider when Bucky took a few polite sips.

“So you have a name. And quite a story.” The tentacles wrapped a little closer, snuggling around Bucky. “What do you want me to call you, sweetheart?”

Bucky smiled. “I like sweetheart. But my name is Bucky. So call me that.”

“Bucky,” Steve said, murmuring the name aloud for the first time. He squeezed Bucky's hand. “We'll find out what happened to you. I swear to you.”

Bucky shrugged, but he was smiling, and he settled down again in his bed. Steve pulled the cover up to his chin, tucking him in warmly, and squirmed a half-dozen thick tentacles around him. Bucky had held onto the one he'd accidentally hurt, and petted it gently, using it as a pillow.

“Will you stay?” he asked shyly. “Just for a little bit? Unless you have something you need to do...”

“I don't have anything I need to do but stay with you,” Steve assured him, and tickled under his chin with the tip of Lavender for a moment. “Go back to sleep, Bucky. I'll watch over you. No more nightmares, okay? I can make it so you can sleep without dreaming.”

Bucky brightened considerably at that. “Please, Steve?”

“Of course.” A full-body hug for his sweet human, and Steve watched while Bucky snuggled up and drifted back off to sleep.

He settled down on the other side of the bed, as far away as he could get, so Bucky didn't feel crowded, and waited patiently for morning.

 

Bucky woke up slow and easy, snuggled in among the tentacles. He gave Lavender a friendly pat, and kissed the arm he'd injured in the night – unless that was its twin, so he kissed the other half of the pair too.

“ Good sleep?” Steve asked, voice warm and easy and too far away. Bucky wished Steve would touch him a little more, but he also didn't blame Steve. He wasn't overly touchable, he reckoned. Still had the stink of death about him; he was still a killer, and that would never go away. He didn't blame Steve at all for keeping his distance.

“ Uh huh.” Bucky rolled over and stretched, pleased when his body didn't ache. “You don't sleep, huh?”

“ Nope. Not really any need. I like having quiet time, though,” Steve admitted, leaning over a little to pet Bucky's hair.

Bucky startled them both with a sudden, brilliant smile, and leaned into the touch, even as Lavender uncoiled from his wrist, and the sweet, plum-flavored tentacled showed up. Bucky opened his mouth and took it deep, suckling happily while tentacles coiled gently around him and Steve kept up the light, gentle touch.

 

The sweet morning gave Bucky enough boldness to go and explore on his own. He'd been cautious about taking Steve at his word that he had free reign and hadn't yet gone anywhere Steve hadn't taken him first. But Steve had wandered off to do something or other, and Bucky felt restless in the library. Steve trusted him enough to touch him now, just a silly little caress, so Bucky was fairly sure he'd be okay exploring.

He lost himself for hours in one wonderful room after another. Steve was ageless, outside of time, and it showed in his domain. They were all exquisite, full of treasures, beauties both natural and man-made. There was an ancient forest that made Bucky's little orchard look like a windowsill garden. And a room lit by candles and lined in amber and gold; Bucky couldn't help but picture Steve in there, his hair glowing like the walls, his skin warm under the soft light.

They were all glorious and fascinating, which made it all the dumber that he he tripped and fell in the stupid  _ corridor _ . It was unfinished rough stone in this branch, almost like coral, and Bucky had just come from a cave that contained a freezing cold spring; the air had been green and rich and had a wintry snap to it he didn't much like. In all but running from the room he'd caught a toe on a particularly rough patch and went down.

“ Shit,” he breathed to himself. He'd slid a little, and his shins were raw and bleeding. Worse, his pants were ripped through. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Okay, plan. He could make it back to his bedroom undetected and get changed. He wore long pants habitually, so Steve wouldn't see the mess that his shins were. And he could hide the ruined piece of clothing.

You know. From the omniscient god who'd given it to him. Who definitely wouldn't be able to tell that it was hiding in the back of Bucky's closet. Yeah, there was  _ no way _ that Steve would find out that Bucky had ruined his gift.

Bucky was such a moron. He should have stayed in the library. These rooms were wonderful but...well. Lesson learned. Steve was a bit of a softy, at least so far. His punishment wouldn't really be that bad, he suspected.

(He would have assumed Steve sucked at punishments, but he remembered the scene in the cave, where he was supposed to have been a sacrifice.)

Silent as anything, Bucky stole through the corridor back to the big main room. The door to his bedroom was no more than twenty feet away; easy-peasy.

The big room was empty; good. Steve was away, and Bucky might actually be able to get away with this. If he could do something  _ good _ before Steve got back...maybe start training again. Show he was ready to fight. He almost never got dizzy anymore, so that was  _ like _ being able to fight again. He could be useful to Steve, deserved only the light punishment that would remind him to care for himself and his gifts...

Bucky was halfway to his bedroom when Steve entered, flipping through a folder.

Bucky froze, because he was a moron.

Steve gave a little jump because...well, Bucky was starting to suspect Steve was not one hundred percent great at being an all-seeing deity. “Oh! There you are, good.”

“ Uh. Hi.”

Steve may not have been  _ entirely _ on the ball, but he wasn't dumb. “Oh no, sweetheart, what happened?” he asked, crossing the room in long strides. He was in his human form, with stupidly long legs.

“ Nothing!” Bucky said quickly, back against the wall. “Nothing, I swear. I'm sorry, Steve, I'm sorry about the pants, I can...”

Steve gave him a strange look. “Bucky, sweetheart, I don't care about  _ clothes _ .” Within a blink, they were good as new again. “Sit down, let me see. You're hurt,” he said gently, and Bucky slid down the wall and let Steve push up the pant legs in turn.

“ I tripped and fell,” he said softly. “I wasn't thinking, or looking. I'm sorry.”

Steve gave him another odd look. “You didn't do anything wrong. Don't apologize.” A slender, tan tentacle with a flat paddle covered in suckers appeared, and fastened onto the mess that was Bucky's left shin, where he'd taken the brunt of the fall. It started immediately to ooze a clear gel that quickly covered the whole skinned area. The tentacle then wound around his leg, ankle to knee, and got to work on the other leg.

When it was done, Bucky was staring, bemused, at his legs encased in soft, slender tentacle. The gel killed all of the pain; he felt, if anything, a soft warmth. There were big orange tentacles coiled behind and under him, gently lifting him off the ground and giving him a slightly nicer spot to rest on. Not to be outdone, Lavender had showed up to wrap around her usual spot on his wrist. And, inevitably, Bucky had his choice of his favorite food tentacles.

Bucky paused for a moment to sincerely hope he never got truly injured. Not for any reason for himself, but because the anxiously hovering octo-god, now in full tentacled form, would probably have a nervous breakdown.

“ I'm  _ fine _ ,” he said, and smiled at Steve. “Honest. It's a scratch, basically.”

Steve sniffed to show what he thought of that. “Still.” He started to stroke Bucky's hair again, like he had that morning, and it felt even better now. “You were in pain, I could taste it in the air, and now you're not.” There was the ghost of a fingertip on Bucky's ear as he cheerfully ate from the tentacle that tasted exactly like a cream-filled doughnut and had, Steve assured him, literally nothing healthy about it.

“ And you were afraid,” Steve said softly. “I don't blame you, honey. Knowing where I found you...I don't blame you. But I swear, I'll work every day to show you that you can trust me.” A gentle scritch at the back of his neck. “That I'll never be angry over something like torn clothes. I just want to help you heal, give you things to make you happy. I promise, sweetheart. I don't need anything from you in return.”

Bucky smiled and relaxed, knowing Steve's tentacles would catch him. His terrifying octo-god was so funny, really. He was aware of being lifted and carried to bed. Steve settled him among the pillows, tentacles still bound tight around his legs, the pain still completely gone. Bucky still had the feeding tentacle in his mouth, and it felt so nice to be full, to have things in him. It kept him in his own body, he decided, and planned to stay curled up in bed, pampered to a ridiculous degree, for as long as possible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

It was a few hours later, and Bucky's legs had finally healed to Steve's satisfaction. (That is – completely.) He quietly didn't move, even as the healing tentacles unwound themselves and Steve cleaned him off with the sweet-scented white arms. Maybe he could trick Steve into still holding him with the big orange tentacles. Maybe he would keep them coiled around his belly and hips, making soft, warm cushions for Bucky to take his ease on. They were heavy and comforting, and somehow made his belly ache less. Or at least made it so he didn't notice.

“You healed so quick,” Steve said, not a little proudly, and Bucky preened, even though he didn't _really_ have anything to do with it. He'd just lain there like a lump while Steve took care of him, snuggled in strong, thick arms, easy to hold still and let the nice healing tentacles work, Lavender coiled around his wrist and halfway up his forearm.

The big tentacles stayed as Steve settled down beside him, smiling down at him like a total doof. He was holding the folder he'd been carrying when he had come back and found Bucky. “How're you feeling?”

Bucky laughed out loud. “Steve. I skinned my knees. I feel fine. I felt fine then, too.”

Steve blushed, and it was so adorable it was kind of disgusting. “You were stressed, though. Lavender could taste it in the air.”

Bucky's face softened at that. “You mean you could taste it,” he said gently, and stroked the tentacle still curled around his wrist. “I'm sorry. I feel better about that, too.” Steve was so _good_. Fighting for him wouldn't be terrible at all. He'd been with Steve for ages, and hadn't been punished even once yet.

“You don't ever have to apologize for that,” Steve said, and smiled tentatively at him, the tip of one of the great orange arms curling behind his neck, strong and supportive. Bucky had a ghost of a memory of a friend putting his hand there, play-fighting and holding the back of his neck. From long ago, he guessed, before he didn't die.

“I have something for you,” Steve continued, and handed over the folder. “I've read a lot of what's in here,” he said apologetically. “I needed to make sure it was true, first. It's...a little, of why you're still alive.” He smiled softly. “A little of why you healed faster than I expected.” And now, hesitating. “Bucky? Are you hungry? I mean, a lot?”

Bucky blinked, a little startled. “I...don't know?” he said. “I don't...I guess? What's hungry feel like?”

Steve looked at him helplessly. “Sweetheart, I'm a fucking god, you think I know from hungry?”

Bucky started giggling, and was relieved when Steve joined in. “We're a pair, huh?”

Steve giggled harder. “I'm so sorry, you should have wound up somewhere useful...”

“Hey, no.” Bucky was going to shut this down _right away_. “I wound up someplace perfect.”

The look on Steve's face was extraordinary. “Really?”

“Really.” Bucky gave him a little nudge. “I couldn't ask for better, Steve. We'll figure out stuff like hungry, between us.”

“Eat something,” Steve said, and shoved the most nutritious tentacle at him. “I know you go through that orchard like there's no tomorrow, but looking through one of the papers there, you're not getting nearly enough calories,” he explained.

Bucky ate, of course, and did feel better, even moreso than he did with the big tentacles coiled around him. Another three, a little smaller, had joined them. One curled around his calf, the other two resting on his shoulders, warm and easy. Bucky suspected Steve wasn't even consciously controlling them.

(A tiny part of him wondered if this felt as good for Steve as it did for Bucky. That he trusted Bucky, even after he'd hurt a precious arm – he could tell the two apart now, had named them Port and Starboard, and lavished caresses on them both, cuddling extra with the one he'd crushed – and that he took comfort from the touch.)

He paged through the folder slowly, while he ate. Born in 1917 – well, he didn't technically remember that, but he remembered the world he grew up in. He remembered the stories no one told about the Great War.

Grew up, went to school, became a clerk. The life story of any boy born when he was. And then, the war. His death-that-wasn't. And...nothing.

Or, almost nothing. There was a typewritten page, part of a longer report, that talked about someone called the Asset, and about using words to implant control.

“You have to destroy me,” Bucky said, looking up at Steve.

“What?”

Bucky supposed that he ought to be proud, in the last moments of his too-long life, that he'd dumbfounded a god. “You have to. I mean, if you don't want to kill me, then put me to sleep forever. But you can't have me around and awake, Steve.”

“ _What_ ?” Steve frowned and reached out, his fingertips featherlight on Bucky's arm. “ _Why_?” He sounded lonely already.

Well, he could get a new human. There were only about six billion to pick from.

“I'm not safe,” Bucky explained patiently. “Steve, darling, I'm not safe to have around. There are words in my head that people can use to control me, to turn me into a killer. I know you're not exactly mortal, but I could hurt you. I've _already_ hurt you, and that was uncontrolled, by accident. You've got to put me down. It's the only way to keep you safe.”

Steve's mouth hung open.

“I'll miss you,” Bucky said kindly. “Promise me you'll find a new human? Or, I dunno, get a dog or something. You need someone to look after you and be a friend. You promise me, okay Steve? I don't want you to be lonely when I'm gone.”

“ _No_ ,” Steve said, the word ripped out of him. “No, I want you.” He stopped and took a deep breath. Bucky though, affectionately, that he was such a drama queen. Steve didn't need to breathe, but here he was with his chest heaving. “You're not a danger to me, Bucky. And I won't put you to sleep, and I sure as _fuck_ won't kill you.” More heaving breaths. Good grief. “You can't hurt me. I mean, yeah, I guess you can for a few seconds. But I'm stronger than you'll ever be.” Stated flat, a fact that was incontrovertible. “You can't kill me, and you can't hurt me. And you don't have fucking words inside your head.”

“But this says--”

“And _I_ say you don't.” Steve rubbed his forehead. “I'd know. You know the tentacles are me? You think I wouldn't know, through Lavender, that you don't have some fucking trigger words? If you ever did, they're gone. That's part of what she does.”

“Oh,” Bucky said softly, feeling a little stupid and dramatic himself. “I...”

“I'm sorry,” Steve said. “This is my fault, in part.” He reached out and finally grasped both of Bucky's hands, thumbs rubbing the knuckles. “I should have told you all of this from the start, and I'm so sorry I didn't. I don't know the details,” he admitted. “But I know you're healing. You remembered your name, and a little of your past, right?”

Bucky nodded.

“You know Lavender is helping with that, right?”

Another nod.

“If you had words in your head, she would find them, and make them go away. Break that connection, so gentle you'd never even feel it.” Steve squeezed his hands softly. “Darling, darling, I promise you. There are no words anyone could say to turn you into a mindless killer. I wouldn't allow that. Lavender wouldn't let that exist for a moment. And I promise you, from now on, I'll be...more careful. Let you know what's being done, if I can identify it. I won't...take away your choice.”

“Steve. You dingbat.” Bucky squeezed his hands, loving the warm, dry feel of them. Different from the tentacles. Not better or worse, but different, and welcome. “You give me choices all the time. So many it's overwhelming sometimes.” Another little squeeze. “I trust you to heal me. I trust you to help me, I really do. I'm sorry if I scared you. I don't want to die,” he said slowly, realizing the truth of that, in that moment. “I would, if it kept you safe. But I don't want to.”

About ten giant tentacles appeared out of nowhere, coiling around Bucky and wrapping him up tight.

“No one is dying,” Steve growled.

Bucky leaned his head, resting his cheek on Starboard. “I like that.” No one dying. Not him, not Steve, and no one dying by Bucky's hand.

“Good,” Steve grumped, and another three tentacles appeared, including the tan-colored healing one, even though Bucky was the farthest thing from hurt right then. He got a fingertip free and petted between his suckers on the little paddle, though.

“Can I finish reading the folder?” Bucky asked gently, after a few minutes that comforted them both.

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry.” Enough retreated that Bucky could free his arms. There wasn't much more left in the folder; a letter written in Russian that didn't make any sense, and a grainy photograph of him, wearing a mask and protective glasses, almost unrecognizable.

“There's more,” Steve said. “I mean, there has to be. But I wanted you to decide if you wanted to learn more.”

“Yes,” Bucky said, without hesitation. He knew he was a monster – or had been, a quiet part of him said – but wanted to know what kind. And maybe something about the young man.

“I had sisters,” he said suddenly. “Three of them. I'm oldest.”

“We'll find out about them too,” Steve said. “I promise, Bucky.”

Bucky smiled at him, and reached forward, pulling Steve into a big, genuine, human hug. “Thank you.”

"You're welcome.” Steve hugged him back, easy and warm, Bucky held completely, between arms and tentacles. “Bucky,” he said softly, “I don't want another human. I don't want a replacement for you. There isn't one. No one else could exist like you. I only want you.”

Bucky nodded, and rested his face on Steve's shoulder, and didn't say anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky was not doing well.

That was a lie, he admitted to himself. He was finally eating enough – he hardly ever got dizzy, and knew what to do when that happened now – and his body was filling out and healing, nagging little injuries fading away with time and care. Lavender still wrapped around his wrist for a few hours a day, flooding him with warmth and calm, but even that was starting to peter off, he thought.

But there was more than just the physical. Bucky, in his head...well, he was getting there. He and Steve had figured out hungry between them. After a day playing in the winter orchard, Bucky had worked out _too cold_ when his lips were blue and he couldn't stop shivering.

Neither he nor Steve liked _too cold_ . Or even _a little bit cold_ , to be honest. But the day _had_ ended with Bucky tucked up in bed, a hot tentacle at his feet and another around his shoulders, Steve hovering nearby to summon up a cup of hot cocoa at Bucky's request.

And that was part of it. Because Bucky _knew_ he was fucked in the head. He knew he wasn't great at being a person yet. That he had so many memories to regain, that there was so much he was going to have to re-learn. His brain had been frozen, thawed, wiped, over and over and over. His body could heal itself, given enough time and calories, but his brain was going to take longer and it was going to be harder, and there was no guarantee he'd ever be himself again. Whoever that was.

And he _knew_ this. He knew he forgot things, and missed things. He knew he didn't respond to pain right, or being hungry or thirsty. (Sleepy he was pretty golden on, which he was a little proud of.) So he wasn't sure he could trust the warm sensation in his chest that happened when he looked at Steve.

That was supposed to mean affection. Maybe love. But Bucky was well aware that he was the following things:

1\. A person. Not a god.

2\. A brain-damaged killer.

3\. Simultaneously awkward and useless

4\. _suffering from severe brain damage_

Point four was why he couldn't, quite trust this feeling. Points one through three and probably four were why Steve would, at best, be amused that Bucky cared about him. Like Bucky being charmed by an affectionate animal. It was so adorable, the way this helpless, hopeless thing cared about him, but it wasn't exactly something to build a long, loving relationship on.

So he quietly wished that Steve would touch him a little more. He quietly got a warm, heavy feeling in his chest when he looked at Steve. His heart quietly leapt every time Steve _did_ touch him, and he slept best curled in a nest of tentacles. And that was, he reckoned, going to have to be that.

 

***

 

Bucky held his baby sister on one hip, bouncing a little to keep her calm as he stirred the eggs. “Who's a pretty girl?” he cooed. “Who's Bucky's pretty girl?”

The baby cooed and shrieked, and laughed when Bucky gave her a very healthy bounce.

“Breakfast's ready!” he hollered. “Becca! Mary! You better be ready to eat!”

The two girls filed into the kitchen in their school clothes and sat down while Bucky served them up breakfast.

“You two come straight home after school,” he ordered. “We can't afford to pay Miss Delia to watch the baby any longer, and I have work.

“We _know_ ,” Mary groaned. “You keep tellin' us.”

“Mr. Pettigrew says I'm going to be a great clerk,” Bucky said, his chest puffing out. “Mr. Pettigrew says I've got a head for numbers, and he'll have his head clerk keep an eye on me.”

Becca rolled her eyes.

“You two can be a smart as you like,” Bucky lectured them. “I'm a man, now, and I'll have a pay packet on Friday to bring home to Mama.

“I'll have one too in a few years,” Becca said proudly.

Her brother rapped her gently on the head. “The heck you will. You're gonna go to college, Miss Becca. I'll see to it myself.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Becca groaned.

“You said _heck_ ,” Mary gasped.

“I'll say a lot worse if you two don't finish eating _right now_ and clean your dishes,” Bucky threatened. “I'll go drop the baby off with Miss Delia and be right back.”

He didn't bother to grab his hat – Miss Delia lived just a floor down – but did make sure little Edith was in her best kimono. The Barneses weren't any better than they ought to be, but people talked way too easy.

Bucky couldn't wait to be able to buy a whole house for Mama and the girls, and no nosy parker neighbors.

Bucky knocked on Miss Delia's door and let himself in. “Ma'am? I'm here with Edith,” he called out.

Miss Delia lay on the sofa, half of her head torn off, red and bloody. Everything was red and bloody, except for the things that weren't, the bits that were, somehow, even worse.

Bucky backed out, horrified, his arms tight around his baby sister. He looked down when Edith didn't even cry out. She was limp and silent, a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead.

Bucky screamed, and kept screaming.

He choked, and inhaled sharply, and gagged, choking again on air and the raw feeling in his throat. Bent over, he coughed, his whole body sharp with the pain of it, and retched before he could take a breath.

“Bucky, you're safe.” The soft, wrinkled tentacles came around him, and Bucky coughed again, and howled, because he was safe.

“It was a nightmare,” Steve soothed, drawing closer, more tentacles criss-crossing Bucky's back, tender and warm. “You're all right, Bucky, I promise. You're safe.”

Bucky nodded and wiped his eyes, but the tears didn't seem to stop.

“Oh, honey.” Port and Starboard looped around his shoulders, and he gave Starboard a gentle pet. He hadn't hurt anything this time, at least, though his shoulder ached.

“I'm okay,” he rasped.

“You are,” Steve soothed, settling on the edge of the big bed and reaching out to curl his hand around Bucky's. “You're okay. It was a dream. You're safe.”

Bucky nodded, and breathed deeply. “It was just a dream. It didn't happen.”

Steve just nodded, and Lavender coiled around Bucky's wrist.

“Steve?” Bucky asked softly.

“What is it, honey?”

In response, Bucky leaned over and pushed himself into Steve's arms. “I don't want to sleep again.”

“Okay,” Steve soothed, putting his arms around Bucky, ginger at first, then relaxing. Port and Starboard flowed around him, along with the soft, crepey orange tentacles that only seemed to come out at night. “I'll get you some coffee, and we can sit together.”

Bucky nodded. “Can you take us to the greenhouse?” he asked.

“Of course. Nighttime?”

Bucky nodded again, sighing when he rested his head on Steve's shoulder. “Please.”

“We can watch the sun rise,” Steve promised him, and smiled. “I have an idea for a treat that'll help you relax.” He caressed Bucky's shoulder, the angry scars where metal met flesh. “Help you feel better.”

“Yeah?” Bucky gave him a small, tentative smile.

“Yeah. Hold on tight, sweetheart.” Like he'd let Bucky get hurt, but it was easier somehow with his human snugged tight against him. Steve coiled arms and tentacles around him, and transported them to the moonlit gardens, fragrant and warm and humid.

Bucky smiled and relaxed, just a little, in Steve's arms.

“Coffee first, then your treat,” Steve promised, making a steaming mug of coffee appear for Bucky.

Bucky's smile grew a little bigger and he sipped deep, sighing at the warmth and the caffeine. He could take a nap later, Steve reckoned. And if he didn't want to, it wasn't like he had to do anything that day that he didn't want to.

“My sisters were all alive when I died,” Bucky said suddenly, about halfway through his coffee. “I remember writing to them.”

“...Yes?” Steve tried.

“Sorry.” Bucky flushed and looked down at his mug. “I dreamed...never mind. It was just a dream.”

“It sounds awful,” Steve said gently.

“It was.” Bucky smiled, his mouth twisted. “I dreamed of people I killed. But they were my family, and the woman who lived downstairs who watched my baby sister during the day.”

“That's horrible.” Lavender had been working away; there wasn't anything else Steve could do, really.

Bucky just sighed and leaned against Steve, sipping his coffee again. He petted Starboard idly with his free hand.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked, resting his arms loose around Bucky. There were still plenty of tentacles making a little cocoon; Bucky liked them at least.

“You holding me?” Bucky asked, and he smiled when Steve nodded, snuggling a little closer and drinking deep from his coffee. “Yeah, of course.”

“What d'you mean 'of course'?” Steve teased, and tickled his cheek with the tip of Port. “I didn't know you liked this!”

“Well, I didn't think you'd wanna touch me, so we're even,” Bucky shot back, turning his head to kiss Port's suckers.

“What?” Steve was so stunned that he and all his tentacles froze in place. Even the birds stopped singing for a moment.

“Hmm?” Bucky nuzzled Starboard for good measure. “Can I have more coffee, please?”

“Uh, yeah, of course, Bucky.” Steve refilled the mug. “You thought I didn't want to touch you?”

“Not with your hands,” Bucky said, nodding.

“Did I...Bucky, sweetheart, did I do something to make you think that?” Steve asked.

“No,” Bucky drank his coffee and smiled. “This is really good, thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Steve said. Was this what drowning felt like? “Buck. Uh. Why on earth would you think I didn't want to touch you?”

Bucky gave him a surprised look. “Why would you want to? You're literally a god, and _at best_ I'm nothing. You were so careful around me. And what does it matter for you, anyway?” He shrugged. “I like the tentacles, anyway. It was – it is – really comforting.”

“You are _not_ nothing,” was what Steve came up with. Port and Starboard wound their way around Bucky, but so did Steve's arms, hugging him tightly. “You're so...you're the _opposite_ of nothing, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky giggled and nuzzled the crepey orange tentacle also coming around him. “Hello again. What should I call you?” he mused. He snuggled a little closer in Steve's arms. “You're ridiculous. I don't know why you even spend time with me.”

“Because you're awesome. You're sweet and funny and smart. You're kind. You name my tentacles and you like to read and cuddle and eat.” Steve blinked, dumbfounded. “I was so lonely, before you came along.”

_That_ got Bucky's attention. He set his cup of coffee down and wrapped his arms tight around Steve's shoulders.

“I know,” he said softly. “I got that. Oh, Stevie.” He pulled Steve into a tight hug. “'s not right. You're so good, you shouldn't ever be lonely.”

“Well, now I'm not,” Steve said, hugging back. “I got my human. And I love touching him. I didn't want to hurt you at first, that's all, darling. But now I know it's okay...”

Bucky giggled and rested his head on Steve's shoulder. “It's okay,” he promised, and laughed when a tentacle tickled his side. “Vera Lynn, you're awful.”

Steve laughed. “That's her name?”

“Uh huh.” Bucky stretched a little and sighed. “Steve, can I please sleep here tomorrow night? Please? I love my bedroom, but this is magical.”

Steve laughed. “Of course. Bucky, you can sleep wherever you want. Go wherever you want, you know that.” He would magick up a bower for his human. A cozy little bed with a goosedown mattress, night-blooming roses growing all around it. Velvet pillows made to look like moss and a blanket thick and soft as grass.

Bucky shrugged and smiled, and twined his fingers around a new, slender tentacle.

They cuddled together in silence until just before dawn, when Steve rubbed Bucky's back. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Unless you want to nap?”

Bucky shook his head. He'd sipped at coffee while the stars wheeled overhead, and seemed very much against sleep in any form.

Steve had made the bower just on the other side of a little stone pagoda, but reckoned it could wait.

He gave Bucky a little squeeze, and a big copper tub appeared before them, gently steaming in the cool air. “Would you like a bath while you watch the sun come up?”

Bucky laughed and pulled away, arms already reaching out. “Steve! This is great.” He giggled and started to strip down, folding his black trousers and navy shirt neatly. His body was pale in the dark, glowing where it wasn't in shadow.

Steve grinned, and watched him climb into the tub, settling with a happy groan. The tub was deep enough that the water came up to Bucky's chin, and he sighed, ducked under for a moment, and then surfaced again to lie back, head tilted to the sky.

“Good?” Steve asked.

“ _Amazing_ ,” Bucky groaned. “Oh my God, this feels so good. Thank you so much.”

"You want to get soaped up?” Steve asked, unbelievably amused at the effect this was having on Bucky.

“Mmm. Yes please,” Bucky sighed, eyes still closed, still in a state of bliss.

Steve giggled, and produced the white tentacles that had always cleaned Bucky off before. The ducked below the water and got to work, scrubbing Bucky down from toes on up, working the water into a sweet-scented froth. Bucky giggled and squirmed, and Steve only purposely tickled him five or six times, scrubbing him down until his skin was soft and clean, his hair shining. He changed the water out for fresh, still deliciously warm, and gentled Bucky down to rest, the hot water doing its work.

Bucky relaxed with a happy sigh. “Stevie, you know just what I love.”

Steve came over to kneel by the tub, and rested his hand on Bucky's chest. “Nah. But you help me know,” he said. “I just want to help you be happy, and to heal.”

Bucky smiled and cracked an eye open. “I like that a lot.”

“Good.” Steve started to rub his chest, just a tiny bit. “Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked. The plum-flavored tentacle was waving just at the edge of Bucky's peripheral vision.

Bucky grinned. “There room in here for you, honey?”

“There is now,” Steve said, as the tub trebled in size, and he grew legs and climbed in. He should have expected Bucky to climb in between his legs, he guessed, leaning back against Steve's chest.

“There,” Bucky sighed, as Steve wrapped arms and legs around him. “Now it's perfect.”

“Oh, Buck.” Steve rested his cheek on the top of Bucky's head, and they watched the sun rise together like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry about the long break -- my creativity took a little spring hibernation. I'm hoping to start writing more, and more regularly, starting...nowish?

Bucky chewed on the end of his pencil, stared out the window, and tried to get the words in order to put down. If he could write it down, he couldn't forget again; and reading through the pages of copperplate writing helped the memories.

He'd asked Steve to make him a little desk and chair at a window in the library. “Okay, not the  _ Resolute _ desk,” had been his initial feedback. “Steve, you don't have any taste at all, do you?” was the second go-round. Finally he managed to describe what he wanted, and that was why he was sat at a plain, worn-out wooden desk and chair, not entirely unlike the ones he'd used at school. The exercise books Steve had made for him were exactly like the ones he remembered, and that helped too.

He managed another half a page, before a blinding headache drove him to put his things neatly away and go for a little wander. Steve was out attending to godlike stuff – he had muttered something about being summoned – and Bucky was getting better about exploring Steve's domain on his own. There hadn't been a repeat of the awkward knee-skinning incident, at least.

He picked a new branch of tunnels to wander down. The first few rooms just had little odds and ends, were half-decorated and then abandoned. There was something strangely sad about that; Bucky made a mental note to maybe come back to them someday, figure out what to do with them with Steve. The next entrance lead to a gorgeous tropical beach, and Bucky waded in the warm water, splashing in the shallows and annoying crabs until he felt his face start to burn.

The room after that was blessedly cool and dim, lit only by the glow coming from the corridor. Bucky left the door open and explored the small room. A series of low, wooden boxes lined the walls, each of them with a small item on it. Most of them were straw effigies of an octopus; others were bouquets of flowers, or seashells. Bucky settled down in front of the biggest pile of flowers and tilted his head, regarding it. It was beautiful, fragrant and eternal, and he wondered what on earth it was. What were  _ all _ of these things? It was such a strange collection.

“ Oh, there you are,” Steve said, like he couldn't tell, easy as pie, where Bucky was at any given moment. Bucky rolled his eyes, but he was smiling at he turned around. 

“ Hey. Good, uh, Godding?”

Steve shrugged and came further into the room, lighting it at he went. “Okay, I guess. They wanted me to make them rulers of the world.”

Bucky made a face. “I'm sorry. As bad as Hydra?" 

Steve shuddered. “Ugh, no. They didn't have any kind of sacrifice for me, thankfully.”

Bucky held out an arm and Steve sat beside him, leaning into the half-hug. “Well, that's something.” He gave Steve a little squeeze. “Glad you're back.”

Steve smiled and a couple of tentacles coiled around Bucky, settling around his arms and shoulders. “Me too. Good day?”

Bucky shrugged – carefully, gentle with Port lying across his back. And – yep, there was Lavender, right on time. He petted her with a fingertip while he went on talking. “Okay. I wrote a little, then got too headachey so I went exploring.”

Steve made a soft noise and the healing tentacles appeared, a soft, tan paddle snugging up to Bucky's temple. He smiled at that – what a dork his octopus god was. “I'm fine,” Bucky protested, laughing. “But Steve, what on earth is all this?" 

“ Oh.” Steve blushed. “They're...prayers, I guess. Offerings. The ones I liked, obviously.”

“ Should we just move my bed into here, then?” Bucky teased, and laughed when Steve blushed darker. “C'mon. I'm not an offering you like?”

Steve gave him a shove. “You're not a fucking flower?” He rolled his eyes when Bucky cackled harder. “Look, the short version is...you know most people think I'm some kind of evil power-hungry god. But I used to have a little cult who...who prayed to me for healing. And now and again someone else remembers, or re-invents, and burns an offering. That's what these are,” he explained.

“ Oh, Steve,” Bucky said, touched almost beyond words. “That's perfect. Of course you're a god of healing. How did I not realize it before?”

Steve shrugged. “You were kinda busy being traumatized,” he pointed out. 

Bucky smiled and pulled Steve in for a hug, savoring the feeling of arms joining the tentacles around him. “Hey, does that mean you feel it when  _ I _ believe in you?”

Steve nodded, and Bucky hugged him harder, closing his eyes and  _ believing _ as hard as he could. He'd burn flowers for his Steve every day, if that would help.

Steve smiled and rubbed his back, easing Bucky down. “You don't have to offer me anything,” he chided gently, more tentacles appearing to coil around Bucky's body.

Bucky smiled, and believed.

 

The days passed, each one separate and distinct; different from how they had blurred before. Each day was a new memory written down. A hug from Steve, a tentacle to tempt him because Steve was convinced he wasn't eating enough. An adventure if they could be together, or Bucky amusing himself if Steve had to go off Godding. Bucky had, once, found wild roses in his orchard and burned them as an offering to Steve. Steve had been appreciative – and his little room gained a new sacrifice – but they both admitted that it had been kind of weird. Bucky tended the wild roses nonetheless, as summer swelled to fullness.

He took midnight baths and slept in the bower Steve made for him. He lay in the sunshine and watched trees, and slept in his bedroom. And he...was content.

Bucky was content, he realized. He was healing, and that sucked and was hard, but he had Steve's caring, he had Lavender wrapping around his wrist for at least a few hours every day, and he had tentacles to curl around him and feed him and heal him.

Which was getting to be the hard part.

He figured it was all a part of his getting better, his recovering from the neglect of Hydra. And it wasn't like he'd  _ forgotten _ what it meant, when he woke up with his dick hard. It was very definitely second nature to wrap his hand around himself, explore what felt good, remember what had felt good before, and marvel at his teenage self who could have done this pretty much every waking moment. 

He got himself off alone, though, definitely remembering that that's what was done. He had worked out that if Steve was omniscient, he wasn't omniscient about _Bucky_ , so that was definitely comforting. Except for the part where he really _wanted_ Steve to be there, and to be a very, very active participant.

He had it all figured out. It had started with a dream, where he was wakened by Steve's arms, and his tentacles, wrapping around Bucky's whole body. They hugged a lot now; it wasn't a stretch to imagine that warm body against his and the soft arms wrapping his limbs, holding him safe. Steve could taste Bucky's skin with the tentacles, and could taste what his body needed. He'd make a feeding tentacle just for Bucky, and slide it into his mouth, slow and easy. The tentacles always felt nice; smooth and sweet. They were slender, though, and Bucky would prefer something with...a little more girth. Really stretch his lips and fill his mouth.

They'd start with that, with the tentacles pulsing around his body, Bucky's mouth full, and Steve holding him and stroking his hair. Then two of the strongest tentacles would gently pull his legs apart. And one with a lot of suckers would wrap around his cock, nice and tight. They could move in a way no human hand ever could, and the  _ sensation _ . Bucky woke up, his cock pulsing, mid-orgasm, just from that. He hadn't even gotten to the really good part, where he was filled up completely with Steve's tentacles, big fat ones working their way into hi m . Where he was held, and cherished, Steve genuinely wanting nothing more than to give him pleasure, to take care of him, to make him happy.

He loved Steve. That was something he was sure of, now. And he was pretty sure Steve...cared about him. Love felt unreachable and huge; but Bucky could handle Steve caring. And he could handle Steve loving to hug, and pet his hair, and hold him while Bucky napped or read or anything else.

Bucky no longer had missions. That was something for the Winter Soldier. But he decided this was going to be _like_ a mission. Get Steve to understand what Bucky wanted. And if Steve wanted that too, get him to –  well. Everything. Starting slow, though, Bucky would tackle the feeding tentacles.

Plan in place, he got dressed in his habitual black, and went to go find breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

Just _wanting_ something didn't really constitute a plan, and Bucky knew it. Lying around and wanting Steve to stick it in, so to speak, wasn't going to make it happen.

How, exactly, did one seduce a god who was also half-octopus? (Bucky was not going to think too long on what it might mean if Steve didn't desire him back in quite the same way. That bridge – featuring at best heartbreak, and at worst exile – could be crossed when he came to it.)

Bucky had definitely seduced people before; mostly women, but one or two men. (Steve was male-bodied; more or less, anyway.) They weren't so different, really. Be kind, be charming, show up with little gifts, listen, be at least vaguely interesting and nonthreatening, and if it was meant to be, it would be.

He had kind down pretty well, but reckoned he could always do better. This was where not being an emotionless shell helped enormously, as Bucky put his plan, loose as it was, into play one afternoon. Steve had just returned from godding about, and Bucky bounced up from his desk and went to pull him into a warm hug. “Did it go well?” Steve had a tiny cult who worshipped him as a healer, and they were his, and Bucky's, favorites right now.

Steve laughed and hugged Bucky back, tentacles curling around him, Port and Starboard made armlets of themselves and always, always, Lavender around his wrist. “It was fine. They were lovely. Made it easier to ignore the guy who summoned me with his own blood, because he wanted to be the next Aleister Crowley.

Bucky made a face and petted a few of the closer tentacles, slipping his fingertip around the suction cups. That usually made Steve shiver, and another three tentacles slip around him, and this time was no different. There was a new one, big and fat and mottled red and white, and Bucky petted its crepey surface. “Oh, hello you, you're new!”

Steve chuckled softly. “And what're you gonna name this one?”

“Johnny Weissmuller,” Bucky declared. It was nice and thick, and maybe made his mouth water a little too much. Right, no good getting fresh with Steve, it was still too early for that. Instead he smiled, and hugged Steve again, and gently let go. All the tentacles stayed on him, though, and Johnny Weissmuller in particular left a sucker-mark on his shoulder where his shirt was a little stretched at the neck.

Steve blushed and apologized, and Bucky assured him no harm done, because there wasn't, really, and anyway the mark faded after a few seconds, leaving them staring awkwardly at each other. “Uh,” Steve said. “So. Uh. Do you need...new clothes?”

Bucky looked down at himself. He was wearing his habitual dark colors – a soft black t-shirt, and dark blue silk pants. “No? I mean, I don't think so. They're not torn or dirty...”

“No, I know. Just. You're kinda...muscle-y,” Steve said. Bucky looked confused. “I mean, you've been eating a lot better,” Steve explained. “Especially since we figured out how many calories you need and all that.” They started to head for Bucky's bedroom, presumably to update his closet.

Bucky brightened. “Oh, that's a good thing!” He laughed and clapped a hand over his mouth. Of course it was. There was no need for Steve's mouth to do that funny wobbly thing.

“It's definitely good,” Steve said, and produced the plum-flavored tentacle, nudging Johnny Weissmuller out of the way so it could tickle at Bucky's lips, and then slip into his open mouth. “But your clothes must be getting. Um. Tight?”

Bucky shrugged, and flexed his chest and shoulders.

There was a definite ripping sound.

“Ooops,” he said around the tentacle, and Steve laughed so hard he had to stop his rolling tentacle-walk for a moment and hold himself up against the wall.

“Sh'up,” Bucky said without any heat whatsoever, while he suckled the sweet stuff and Steve wiped his eyes.

“Okay, we're definitely getting you some better clothes,” Steve announced, while Bucky let go of the feeding tentacle for a moment to get his ripped t-shirt off. And keep it off. He didn't believe in turning down opportunities, and all.

It only took a few moments to figure out what fit Bucky still, and manufacture a new wardrobe based around his size. And everything *was* a lot more comfortable he had to admit, as he pulled on new sweatpants.

He left his shirt off until he got cold, and hoped that Steve noticed.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Bucky put step two into play. Steve was around, but they usually spent at least part of their days apart, Bucky working on writing his memories down, or reading if his brain let him, and Steve often tended to one part of his realm or another. Bucky had noticed a patch of wildflowers just beyond the old orchard wall, and he scrambled over it, to find the nicest ones. A few irises to make the center of the bundle, and some ferns, even a few stray stalks of wheat. Other flowers, he didn't know what they were called, but they were small and pale and set off the irises nicely. He braided long grasses into a delicate string, wrapping and cautiously tying the bundle together, and then went to go find Steve.

Bucky found him in a distant room, another of his portals to someplace and sometime else. This one was a pretty mountain lake, glittering in summer sunlight. Steve was building a small dock and a little plank deck. There was a comfy-looking Adirondack chair on the deck. “Stevie?”

He didn't know where the nickname had come from, but it somehow worked, considering the way Steve grinned and turned around. “Bucky, hey! Do you like it? Do you want a different chair? You should have a cushion or something, huh?” A lovely batik pillow appeared on the chair.

Bucky grinned and walked through the thick grass to the little sitting area, clambering up onto sun-warmed pine. “I love it. Steve, thank you. Oh, here – this is for you.” He held out the bouquet.

“Bucky,” Steve chided. “I told you, I don't need offerings from you.”

“It's not an offering – you're right, that was weird. It's a present.”

Steve's face did a thing. “You're giving me a present?”

“Uh, yeah? Sorry, it's not great, but the flowers were just outside the orchard and I thought...they looked...pretty?” This was not going well. This was not what was supposed to happen. Now the only question was how he could abort this dumb idea.

Steve looked up at him, face wreathed in a huge smile. “Bucky, they're very pretty. Thank you.” He took the bouquet carefully, handling it gently.

“It's not gonna break,” Bucky teased, and Steve looked up, startled, and laughed.

“Good?” he tried. He coiled a purple tentacle around the stems and went back to work. Bucky noticed that he kept the bouquet close by, the arm resting just at his elbow. He also noticed that Steve was smiling as he created the long dock, aging the sun-warmed wood to silver, and slinging an inner tube over one of the far posts.

They went for a late-afternoon swim together, Bucky floating in the inner tube and Steve scooting him around the lake as he giggled and trailed his fingers in the water. He flipped out neatly once they were pretty far out, nothing around but gorgeous trees and nothing overhead but pure blue sky.

Bucky skimmed through the water easily, cooling down and diving deep for the pleasure of the cold water and the silence around him. He popped up, took a breath, and dove down, aiming for Steve and swimming straight into a mass of tentacles that wrapped around him and flipped him up to the surface, giggling.

“You ride now, and I'll push you.”

“What?” Steve asked, deeply amused. His tentacles were still coiled tight around Bucky's arms and legs, so Bucky wasn't particularly going to rush his point. Bucky went a little limp, so Steve would have to squeeze harder.

Ohshit.

Okay, so there was...that aspect of things. And Steve would definitely feel it. And Steve would know what it was; he'd told Bucky a few times about particularly....fervent...followers he had.

Bucky turned bright red, because of course he did. The Winter Soldier would not have turned bright red, he thought bitterly for a moment, but then the Soldier didn't get. That.

But 'that' felt _good_.

Steve smiled and the fucker _started stroking Bucky's back_. With his tentacles. And the little suckers on his tentacles would attach, just for a moment, just so Bucky could feel them pull away from his shoulders with a gentle tug before they glided down his back.

“Bucky?”

“Huh?” Bucky blinked a few times. Steve's tentacles felt _amazing_ , sucking at his skin like that, then rippling over his body, heavy coils strong around his legs and waist, holding him up in the water. One had even wrapped around his ankle – probably Lavender, she was never far off.

“You were gonna push me back to the dock?”

“Oh. Yeah. Um, yes! You should get in the inner tube and ride. Fair's fair.”

Steve was grinning at him. He _knew_ . The asshole _knew_ the effect he was having on Bucky. Bucky hated everything.

He hated everything even more when, in the blink of an eye, Steve's tentacles vanished and he had a pair of long, muscled legs. He was not, sadly, naked, which Bucky learned when he yelped, sank a few feet in the water without Steve holding him up, and resurfaced to find Steve sprawled in the tube, face tilted up to the sky.

Bucky seriously contemplated dumping him out, but fair _was_ fair, and it wasn't like Steve would forget that covering Bucky in tentacles gave Bucky a semi. So he braced against the inner tube's wall below where Steve's legs – really nice legs, Bucky admitted – sprawled over the edge. He started up kicking, and like the world's most pathetic outboard motor, got them back to the dock just as the sun finished setting.

“That was awesome,” Steve said, slipping out and hoisting himself up to the dock. He was back to his half-octopus form, and it took Bucky two tries to get himself up, and then haul the inner tube up after him.

“Wanna sit for a little while, maybe start to dry off? I was gonna make a grill, we can have hotdogs and stuff for dinner,” Steve explained, and what, like Bucky was gonna say no? He had been careful to notice that Steve had not exactly responded as though he didn't like, or didn't want, Bucky's attraction.

He settled down beside Steve, and all his favorites slid around him. Port and Starboard around his waist, Lavender at this wrist, Vera Lynn around his shoulder and – oh, even Norbert showed up, curling around his leg just below his knee. “I'm not hurt anywhere,” he told Steve, a little bemused.

“I know,” Steve said, and shrugged. “He just showed up.”

Bucky leaned in, just a little, and everything tightened around him for a moment, like a tight hug. It felt _amazing_. He leaned in more, and Port and Starboard started suckling at his torso. Vera Lynn slid down his shoulder, the very tip of the arm curling around his pec. “Does that feel good?” Steve asked softly, and Bucky nodded hard. “Good. What else – this?” The tip of the tentacle was soft against his nipple, a tiny blossom of suckers covering the areola, attaching for a moment, then pulling away.

It took a minute before Bucky could speak. “Y-yeah,” he gasped, and took another deep breath. “Steve.”

Steve smiled and bumped their shoulders. “Nothing to be ashamed of, y'know.”

“Shame is the _last_ thing on my mind,” Bucky assured him. He had a shit-ton to be ashamed of. Just not this. Fuck, getting off on a god's tentacles was like the least shameful thing he'd done in the last seventy years.

“Good.” Now Bucky had suckers on both nipples, and he gave a little moan as they pulled off. There were little lines of sucker-marks on his pecs now, curving up, around the muscle, to his shoulders. Steve chuckled softly, and made identical marks just next to them, and it was probably good that he was basically holding Bucky up right now.

“What can I do for you?” Bucky managed, once he'd caught his breath a little. There was a particularly fat, smooth arm wrapped around his bicep, and he wondered if he could just get it into his mouth, stretch his lips, start to fill him up...

Steve laughed. “Enjoy yourself. Honestly. I'm not sexual in the same way you are. But I can taste your pleasure, and enjoy it that way. As long as you're happy, I'm very happy.

Bucky nodded and stretched a little – Steve could taste pain and illness and a million other things through his arms, so why not pleasure too?

“That one --” Bucky asked, feeling bold. “Will you put the tip in my mouth?”

Steve frowned. “It's not one that has flavors, love. And isn't it kinda big?”

“That's the point,” Bucky said, and opened his mouth. Steve did not disappoint. The fat tentacle had big suckers, but Steve didn't use them, just let Bucky take as much in as he wanted, his lips stretched so far they almost hurt, the tentacle smooth against his tongue. He made a sound kind of like a moan as Vera Lynn squeezed his arms tight. Steve didn't seem to care that one of his arms was metal, and didn't seem to think it tasted nasty, so Bucky didn't bring it up at the moment.

He shivered, suddenly – this was a lot, even if he had got used to hugging, and he pulled his mouth away. Steve released him in the same instant, and Bucky took a deep, deep breath.

"Are you okay? Did I squeeze too hard?” he asked anxiously.

Bucky shook his head, and took a few more deep breaths. “No. You were perfect.” He smiled a little, from behind the fall of his hair. “Just not used to so much...everything.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I know what you mean.”

“Dinner?” Bucky requested. They could play around afterwards, but a little grub would definitely do _him_ some good. And so would some time not being touched, a little time to breathe and regroup.

“God, yes.” Steve grinned and went to magick up a grill and everything else they would need, while Bucky sat with his feet still in the cool lake water, and waited for his heart to stop racing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops -- a hair over two months since the last update! I promise it will not be this long until the next one.
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS I'M BACK HAVE SOME CONSENTACLE PORN.
> 
> (By the way, sorry about any weird linespacing issues -- I tried to catch them all but not sure I succeeded.)

Dinner consisted of hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, with every topping Bucky could dream of. He personally ate enough to feed a small family, and Steve joined in for the fun of it. There were grilled ears of corn too, and finally grilled peaches and vanilla ice cream for dessert. By the time he was done eating, Bucky was lying on the dock, slightly beached, and, he was pretty sure, the happiest man in the universe. He told Steve this.

Steve threw his head back and laughed. “Bucky, you're ridiculous.”

“I am,” Bucky said with great dignity, wondering if he could request a straw that would go from his beer to his mouth so he didn't have to sit up or chance drowning himself. “But not for this reason. Steven, I am in bliss.”

Steve moved over next to him, tentacle sliding across Bucky's (rather round) belly. “I've had so many people ask me for so many things,” he said, a little awe in his voice. “Riches, or love, or sex. Or sometimes healing,” he admitted with a smile. “They think it will make them the happiest person in the world.” He laughed, bright and sweet. “No one's ever told me that after a big meal.”

“A big meal on a lake you built for me – no, I know this place is real,” Bucky argued. “But the dock and the chair and the food, you made that for me. And the inner tube.” He smiled. “And the...everything. In the water.”

Steve conceded this point. The tentacle on Bucky's belly was soft and smooth, and Bucky petted it lightly, sighing when the suckers gently worked their way across his skin, leaving faint little circles that faded after a few seconds.

“Steve?” Bucky asked dreamily. “What do I taste like?”

Steve laughed. “I can't put it into words,” he admitted. “It's not a human taste, like I could describe to you, I'm sorry. But you taste very good, especially right now,” he told Bucky. “Happy. Healthy. All those good things.”

Bucky smiled and stretched, inviting more tentacles to explore his body. They were...unusual. As different from human hands as he could ever imagine. There were no memories here to be evoked, he realized. Something new instead, and delicious.

Bucky arched his back a little and made a _very_ happy sound when Port and Starboard appeared and wrapped around his legs, high up on his thighs, and their suckers worked his skin over.  
“Good?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, closing his eyes, recording the feelings as sharply as he could, just in case. The feeling of strength around his legs, actually holding him a little. Not pulling them apart just yet, but the promise was there. They were...not soft, not hard, just strong. Not slimy, but wet, and good against his skin.

Bucky moaned without meaning to, when two more tentacles wrapped around his biceps and squeezed. Oh, fuck, oh fuck, he was held, and he was safe, and it was amazing.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Steve said quietly, and Bucky shook his head hard. He was lucky. He'd never been raped, but he'd damn well had the shit kicked out of him too many times to be comfortable with human touch. But this...fuck, even when Steve hugged him with his arms, there were like eleven tentacles also hugging him. It didn't compare.

Bucky recognized this as a revelation, and also recognized that he had frankly astonishing compartmentalization abilities. So this would all be dealt with later, thanks – for right now, he'd enjoy himself.

Steve couldn't hold back a grin as he caressed Bucky, gently held his limbs down, and finally trailed a soft, sweet tentacle up to his lips. Bucky groaned at the first taste of food – “Oh my God, I am so full, I'm serious Steve” – but he also seemed content to just suckle as the tentacle filled his mouth, without feeding. Steve shook his head, but he also shoved in a little more, impressed with the groan that got him.

Oh, right – humans did that. The front of Bucky's pants was swelling, and Steve laid a cautious tentacle over it, not squeezing but a definite weight, and almost passed out himself at the way Bucky's taste changed. It was like every hormone in his body lit up at once and transmitted itself to Steve right through Bucky's skin. Steve made a strangled sound, startled, and then laughed with pure joy because Bucky tasted _amazing._

Steve made a sound at some point, but damned if Bucky knew what kind of sound or why or anything like that. It wasn't that he meant to be a poor lover, just...holy shit. Holy shit, when had he last felt like this? Ever? Steve felt so _good_ , tentacles wrapping around him and squeezing and weight on his dick, so utterly alien it couldn't be anything but his sweet god.

Bucky suckled harder on the tentacle in his mouth, and groaned, and felt his hips start to hitch, rolling up to meet the gentle pressure of...oh. Oh _that_ wasn't gentle. That was a lovely, slender tentacle slipping down the front of his shorts, wrapping around the root of his cock and then--

Bucky shrieked with surprise at the feel of the suckers on his dick, felt every arm wrapped around one of his limbs squeeze and pull, and came so hard he saw stars.

“I'm okay,” he said. Well, slurred. As soon as he could, which wasn't _right_ away.

“Believe me, I know,” Steve said, and his voice sounded kind of wobbly.

Bucky heaved himself up on one elbow, squinting to try and focus. The sun had set, and there were candles and moonlight and that was it. Soft tentacles eased away, and Bucky smiled and kissed the ones that came close enough. “You okay?”

“Nnnnnnghhhh.” Steve flopped down, his head in Bucky's lap, and laughed. “Um, yeah. Sorry. Just. You know how I can taste stuff through your skin, like hormones?”

“Uh huh...oh. _Oh_.” Bucky giggled and hugged what he could reach of Steve. “Okay, yeah. You just had, um. A good time.”

Steve moaned again, stretching luxuriously. “I just had an _amazing_ time. Holy shit. Holy _shit_ Bucky. Is that what it feels like for you?”

Bucky considered the question, his octopus god snuggling in his lap because why not. “No?” he finally offers. “I mean, I don't think so. I experience...everything, different from you. But I did feel happy – no, _blissful_. Trusting. Just... _good_. Relief, kind of.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, it wasn't the same for me. But good...yeah.”

“Good.” Bucky giggled and gave him a little hug. “Long as you enjoyed yourself.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Steve breathed. “Holy _shit_ yeah. When are you ready to do that again?”

Bucky fell back laughing. “Oh my God, I've created...well. Ooooh.” A thick tentacle had slipped down his shorts and was winding around his hips, avoiding his cock but squeezing the thick muscles of his leg, the tip playing in his pubic hair, a sensation that just made them both giggle.

“Just gimme a minute here, babe,” Bucky murmured, sighing and relaxing into the warm wood of the dock. More tentacles curled under and around him, creating a living mattress to hold him. And to move massive arms with huge suckers over his chest, catching his nipples and making him moan and writhe.

“What?” Steve asked innocently. “It's been sixty seconds.”

“Oh my God, fuck you-ooooooooh!” Bucky jerked his hips. That was a very _warm_ tentacle sliding between his legs. The suckers on his chest attached, and let go, leaving round red marks all over his body that were, frankly, sexy as _fuck_.

“C'monnnn,” Steve whined. “Ninety seconds!”

“I'm not fourteen,” Bucky wailed, getting more sucker-marks on his torso. “Hoshit.” He was getting hard _again_. What in the fuck. He hadn't even done that when he was fourteen.

“You okay?” Steve asked, pausing, although still with that brand-hot tentacle between Bucky's legs.

“Yuh-huh,” Bucky gasped. “Just...wow. Uh. Humans...don't usually...work like this.” He wasn't going to _last_ particularly long, but maybe this time he'd blow Steve's brain out enough to be satisfied for, you know, ten to fifteen minutes.

 

He did not. But he did blow his _own_ mind, which was pretty fucking amazing, and it meant that he wound up wrapped up in Steve's tentacles – at least two of them going to work to clean him off with sweet-smelling stuff, and a cool one on the back of his neck.

“Whoa,” Steve said quietly, when he was pretty sure Bucky could hear things again.

“Yeah, whoa,” he agreed, and got his arms around Steve's human half. They hadn't ever hugged before, not exactly – of course Bucky spent plenty of time tangled up in Steve, but not a human hug, like this. Steve's arms coming around him felt – nice. Not as nice as the tentacles, if he was being honest, but they were a good addition.

It was late when Steve carried a half-asleep Bucky to bed. He tucked him in a little awkwardly, but sweetly, and Bucky curled up around Johnny Weissmuller to fall the rest of the way into dreams, soft, smooth tentacles heavy on his body.


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky Barnes woke up ready to live his best life.

It wasn't an overnight transformation or anything; he  _ worked _ for this shit. But something about today, about waking up thoroughly fucked and still a little buzzy from hormones and sex, threw everything into sharp relief. Bucky Barnes' life  _ rocked _ .

He'd fucking earned it, too, he decided. This surety was probably going to wear off as soon as his early-morning happy did, but he was going to enjoy it for now. Enjoy the gorgeous starry caves and the rooms that lead to countryside, beaches, mountains – everywhere but a city. He guessed he could ask for a portal to New York, but why? There wasn't anything there for him anymore, and he'd rather climb trees and swim in lakes. If he ever got lonely he'd work that out.  
  
Huh. He had an idea, something to run past Steve.  
  
“Morning!” Steve had figured out that the opulent dining room was kind of echo-y and weird, so now Bucky had the option of breakfast in a cozy nook. The windows, framed with lace curtains, overlooked a quiet bay somewhere in the world; today it was rainy and gray, choppy with little whitecaps.   
  
“Hey,” Bucky said, moving in for tentacles wrapping around him, dozens of them big and small giving him a full-body hug. Damn, he was lucky.  
  
“Sleep well?” Steve asked, pulling him in a little closer so his actual arms could join the Bucky party.  
  
“Mmm _ hmm _ .” Bucky snuggled up for a moment, feeling very cozy and very happy, before heading for the table and coffee and breakfast. “Hey Steve? You're doing godding stuff today, right?”  
  
“Uh huh. Why? Do you need me around?” Steve asked, frowning a little, and Bucky laughed, just a little, at his anxious deity- slash- lover. (Lover!)

“No! Not need. But...could I go with you?” Bucky asked. “I'm curious. And, uh. I kinda. Kinda want a chance to brag.”

“About...?” Steve was adorable when slightly confused, which happened more often than Bucky would have guessed for a god.

“You! I want everyone to know I got you, and you got me,” Bucky explained.

“Okay?” Steve shook his head, grinning his awkward smile. Bucky revised his reasons – he wanted to see Steve godding about in part because he really could not believe that anyone worshipped someone who probably said 'aw, shucks' un-ironically.

“Swell,” Bucky declared, and dug into breakfast. He was going to have a busy day, lusting after his guy and privately judging everyone who prayed enough to get a manifestation.

After breakfast Bucky decided to make an effort and therefore put on real pants and a t-shirt that wasn't completely terrible.  
  
“You're wearing clothes?” Steve asked, kind of surprised.

“Yes? Do you want me to...not?” Bucky asked in turn.

“Well, yeah. I mean pretty much always. But you said you wanted to show off and be shown off...” Steve tilted his head to one side.

“Look, I don't want to distract you or anything, and I want to fit your look” Bucky said, really not sure what Steve was getting at, but kind of wanting to soothe. “How about you dress me the way you want me, and we'll go with that?”

Steve snapped his fingers, changed Bucky's clothes, and Bucky got what Steve was getting at.

“Oh,” he said flatly. He was wearing a lot of leather straps, and not much else.

“I love it when people underestimate me,” Steve said gleefully.

“Christ, you're an asshole,” Bucky muttered. He was gonna spend the whole day screeching “Don't do it! Save yourself! He's a troll!” and similar warnings at any mendicants.

Steve slipped a bunch of tentacles through a bunch of straps, hoisted Bucky up, and went on his way, whistling happily.

The leather straps were tight on Bucky's thighs, framed his cock, bit into his pecs, and it felt so, so fucking good to be held like this, that he hated everything and loudly declared it so until Steve stuck a feeding tentacle in his mouth.

 

Their first visit of the day was a small cave in a distant land, with a tiny circle of worshippers. Bucky got the sense that they were regulars, who...weren't expecting him, to say the least.

“My Lord! Uh. And. Uh.”

“My concubine,” Steve said smoothly, tentacles waving gently, except for the ones hoisting Bucky up.

His mouth still full of tentacle, Bucky waved at that man.

“Uh...huh,” the man, who was probably their head priest or shaman or something, said. One of the gathered worshippers was staring at Bucky, and the others were trying  _ really hard _ not to.

Steve clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Right, let's get down to business!”

Bucky rolled his eyes – they hadn't even been that corny before the war. No one had ever been that corny.

Steve slithered a tentacle behind his balls in revenge, leaving suction marks where suction marks should never be, and _finally_ started answering prayers.

It was interesting, to see what people asked for, but frankly way  _ more _ interesting to see how they responded to Bucky himself. Plenty of people ignored him, and plenty more were clearly thrown off-balance by any of a) Bucky himself b) Steve himself or c) the concept of a deity with, effectively, a boyfriend. Sure, Steve called him a concubine to try to impress people, and Bucky just lolled around and ate and drank and enjoyed himself with Johnny Weissmuller and Errol Flynn, but it was pretty obvious that they had a basically equal relationship.

And then there was the woman who looked at Bucky with a gaze he could only describe as 'thirsty'. Steve was extra-nice to her, Bucky noticed.

All in all, he rather enjoyed his day out, he told Steve later, once they were back home and in the giant bathtub, washing away the grime of a hard day's work, or whatever. “Can I come with you more often?” he asked. 

“Please!” Steve said, brightening considerably. “ It gets a little boring on my own. And lonely.”

“I guess I can see that,” Bucky said politely, while privately reckoning that this was  _ never _ gonna get boring. Although he could see lonely – he reckoned Steve had probably been lonely a whole lot, for a long time. (Eternity, in a way – Steve didn't really experience time the way Bucky did, as far as he could figure, but he  _ pretended _ to, so that was good enough.  And lonely enough. )

But anyway, his job was to keep Steve from being bored and  sad , so he did his best, which at the moment meant trying to duck him in the giant tub/small swimming pool they were in.

“I am  _ aquatic _ ,” Steve yowled, when he came up for air. “What is the  _ point _ ?”

“Your hair looks ridiculous, is the point,” Bucky explained, not even trying to evade tentacles.

Steve just tried to drown him, in retaliation.

If whatever they were doing hadn't technically started out as foreplay (although it completely did), it turned into that soon enough, Bucky's body soon wrapped in tentacles. Two of them coiled around his legs, and Port and Starboard managed to hold his arms and caress his face, leaving tiny sucker-marks on his cheeks, which tickled. Thinner tentacles wound through his hair and tugged gently, which just meant that it was no time at all until he was hard and literally gasping for it.

“Bucky?” Steve asked quietly, and he sounded so shy and sincere that Bucky stopped getting off on how he was being strong-armed around by a god and opened his eyes. 

“Yeah, doll?” he asked as gently as he could. He had been surprised to learn that he'd never  really lost the knack for gentle. 

“Is this good?” Steve asked, and Bucky felt the tip of a tentacle flutter at his hole. 

“Hoooooo yeah,” he managed, when his brain stopped turning inside-out. “That's...yeah. Yeah baby. That's good. That is  _ so good _ .”

Steve laughed, and circled his hole a little bit, and Bucky felt something slick and warm ooze out of the strong, probing tip. Aw, Steve made his own lube.

Wait.  _ Waitaminute _ . “Steve, have you been doing  _ research? _ ” Bucky asked, delighted and scandalized and only about to use about twenty percent of his brain because Steve was suddenly easing his way inside, easy as pie with the magical godly KY jelly or whatthefuck ever he had come up with.

“Well, obviously,” Steve said very practically, and it was only because Bucky knew him well that he heard the strain under his voice. Hah. Take that, guy who tastes hormones on skin. “Gotta keep my concubine satisfied.”

“Steve, this is the nicest thing anyone's maybe ever done for me,” Bucky said, and meant it.

“ Hush,” Steve scolded, turning red, and pushed the tentacle in a little more. And produced another for Bucky's mouth, the really good plum-flavored one.

Bucky hushed, although he also decided to make Steve blush a lot more, but mostly to enjoy the  _ fuck _ out of this. He was full – of food, of interesting things to fill his days, and oh yeah. Steve hadn't stinted on the girth of the tentacles in either his ass or his mouth,  so he was pretty full in that way, too.

Bucky moaned, gave direction as best he could, but mostly just let Steve go to it – he could taste what was good and bad, and he figured out good pretty quickly. And then really good. And then really,  _ really _ good, and then there wasn't much to figure out other than how Bucky was going to survive living with a god who maybe sorta kinda doubled as a sex toy.

Steve helped him out of the tub, dried him off, and got him into bed, under the quilt made out of velvet because Bucky asked for one, liking the idea of it, and  had  learned that it was the greatest thing in existence, actually.

“No, don't go,” Bucky mumbled, pulling Steve back in when he made to leave. “Stay 'til I fall asleep at least?” he requested.

“I'll stay 'til you wake up again,” Steve promised, changing into his all-human form so he could fit under the covers. Bucky was sort of meh about the whole legs thing, but those were unmistakably Steve's arms around him, and it honestly was probably more comfortable this way, so he  was very content as he drifted off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so from here on out...I don't know how much plot there will be? But oh my, will there be plenty of porn. And feelings. Which is like plot!

“ Hey Bucky?”

Bucky rolled over lazily, helped by a few tentacles. He'd gotten a whole, like, fifteen minutes of afterglow this time. Steve was learning. “Mmmhmm?”

“ Can I ask you a human thing?”

Bucky nuzzled a particularly cute cluster of tiny tentacles, and giggled when they not-quite-suckered his face. It felt like being nibbled by guppies. “Of course, Steve.” He settled his head against Steve's waist.

“ Why do humans like to press their mouths together?”

“ Hm? Oh, that's kissing. Wait.” Bucky actually sat up for this which, having just had all the brains fucked out of him, he felt was a pretty impressive act on his part. His favorite tentacle (of the hour) was  _ still _ wrapped around his right thigh, and he gave it a little caress. “I haven't kissed you? Seriously?”

“ Uh. No? I would definitely remember you sticking your mouth on mine,” Steve said, reaching out with Lavender to touch Bucky's lips.

Bucky smiled and kissed the sweet thing. “I'll have to fix that.”

“ But why?” Steve asked.

“ Why do people kiss? Uh.” Bucky settled back down for a moment, idly playing with Norbert, who just showed up all the time now, like a puppy. “To show affection, to show they care about the other person. Sometimes just because it feels good, and they want the contact. It can be perfunctory, or very intimate. Um. It's...a connection. Sometimes romantic, sometimes familial, for some people – like if you kiss on the cheek – it's just...polite, I guess. Does that make sense?”

“ I guess,” Steve said, and hesitated. “Would you...kiss me? Please? I know I won't be any good at it, but I want to know. I mean. If you don't mind. Having that connection.”

“ Steve, honey.” Bucky pushed himself up and framed Steve's face in his hands. “I've had multiple parts of you up my butt. And other places. I think we can take intimacy as a given.”

Steve smiled at that, and coiled Rock Hudson at the base of Bucky's spine, making him giggle.

“ I would love to kiss you. I can't believe I haven't kissed you before,” Bucky said softly, touching a fingertip to Steve's lips. “I care about you a lot, honey. And kissing makes people happy, and I would love to make you happy.”

“ I'm not human, though.” Steve frowned. “Mostly it looks weird, and I don't get it. What if I don't like it?”

“ Then I won't ever kiss you again, and we'll find something else to do,” Bucky said.

“ Okay. But you like kissing.”

“ But if you don't, then I won't want to kiss you,” Bucky said. “It feels great, yeah. But the best part is how it makes other people happy, or horny, or whatever.”

Steve's smile appeared, shy and small. “Okay. Will you kiss me? Please? Right now?”

Bucky laughed, and wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders. “Just a little one to start, to make sure you like it,” he said, and leaned in. He was feather-delicate, just brushing his lips against Steve's. Then a tiny bit, just a little bit more pressure, his mouth firmly closed. A good first kiss, he rated himself. B-plus at least, maybe an A-minus.

He held the soft kiss for a moment, then pulled back. “Well?”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Steve breathed, his eyes pointing in slightly different directions. “I get it, now. Wow. That...did not feel like it looks.”

Bucky burst out laughing, and hugged Steve tightly. “Nope. It doesn't.”

Steve hugged Bucky back, then pulled away. “Will you kiss me again? Please?”

Bucky giggled. “Of course.” He leaned in and let the kiss last a little longer this time, his mouth moving against Steve's, but not pushing too much. He wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him close, cradling him a little.  _ Definitely  _ a solid A-minus.

“ _ Wow _ ,” Steve breathed when Bucky ended the kiss to check on him. “That feels so amazing.” He frowned. “Am I doing okay?”

“ You're doing great, honey,” Bucky assured him. Another ten tentacles had come out of nowhere, and were gently curling around Bucky, cradling him close. “How does it make you feel?”

“ Warm. Good.” Steve blushed and darted in, quickly kissing the corner of Bucky's mouth. “I like...that someone likes me enough to kiss me. I like kissing you.”

“ Good. I like kissing you too,” Bucky said, and leaned in and kissed Steve's throat.

“ That feels nice,” Steve said, and kissed Bucky's throat, getting creative with his teeth.

“ Glurr,” Bucky said, and Steve laughed. He sent a tentacle sliding up Bucky's chest to tickle under his chin.

Bucky giggled, and kissed Steve's cheek. “Hey, want to try a variation?”

Steve nodded eagerly.

“ Open your mouth a little bit for me. Like this,” Bucky said, and parted his lips, just a little. Steve copied him, and Bucky leaned in, slipping his tongue into Steve's mouth and deepening the kiss.

Steve  _ moaned _ , like Bucky had never heard him moan before, and opened his mouth wider, the two of them sharing breath until, red-faced, they parted.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Bucky breathed, and moaned when he felt the tentacle around his thigh start to unwind and slide up to his bottom. “Oh, Stevie, please...”

Steve chuckled and reached for another kiss, deep and sweet, while the tentacle eased into Bucky, smoothing its way with fragrant liquid.

“ Oh, yes,” Bucky sighed, moaning a little when Lavender wrapped around his waist. “Oh, hi baby. You here to help?” he cooed, stroking the slender, pretty tentacle.

“ You know they're all me, right?” Steve said, bemused.

“ Uh huh. But they're themselves, too.” Bucky smiled and reached for Steve, snuggling close as he filled up. “Oh, that feels so good...”

Steve quieted him with another kiss, more tentacles joining the first one, easing into his baby and filling him up.

“ Mouth,” Bucky demanded, in between moans (Johnny Weissmuller had just worked his way in). 

“ You don't like kissing now?” Steve asked, a little sadly, and Bucky's heart melted.

“ No! No, baby, I adore it.” Bucky soothed him with a tiny kiss, then a longer one. “Steve, honestly, no one's ever kissed you before?”

Steve looked at him wryly. “Vicious killer octopus god, remember?”

“ Oh, honey.” Bucky pulled him down for a long, toe-curling kiss. (Another other-things-curling, considering how the tentacles in him and around him were moving.) “I got a million kisses, just for you.”

Steve smiled, and slipped a slender, golden tentacle into Bucky's mouth alongside his kiss. Bucky suckled, and it tasted like sweet spices, like cinnamon hot chocolate on a cold winter morning, and he moaned his approval. The tentacle slipped further into his mouth, filling it while Steve stretched his ass, more tentacles holding him up, wrapping around him until he was full and everything tasted good, and even his belly was full.

* * *

Bucky laughed, and chased Steve down, shrieking when he tripped over tentacles curling around his ankles, more of them catching him, of course.

“ Stop it!” Steve caught him up and drew him a little closer, and Bucky giggled again, reaching out to tickle him.

“ You're so cute,” he teased, appreciating the blush that lit up Steve's face. “Oh my God. You're precious, doll.”

“ Shut up,” Steve mumbled, but he didn't quite push Bucky away.

“ You are! You're my precious babydoll,” Bucky told him, and actually shrieked with joy when Steve's tentacles all blossomed up, forming a protective shell around him. They were all sucker-side out, a gorgeous sight, all those colors together.

“ Oh, Stevie.” He reached out and caressed around the suckers, smiling when a smaller tentacle started to wrap around his hand, exploring his fingers. It left a slender crack, and he could see Steve when he peered through. “You're a dream come true.”

“ Nightmare, you mean.”

Bucky frowned at that, and gently nudged Jack LaLanne out of the way. “Hey. You stop that, doll. You're a dreamboat.”

Steve blushed, but the tentacles started to come down, curling and weaving around each other and, eventually, around Bucky. Bucky petted one or two, but his focus was on Steve – the rest of Steve, to be exact. “I have bad dreams,” he said softly. “Remember?”

“ Yeah,” Steve said, and reached out, suckers attaching to Bucky's chest for a moment, leaving little red marks behind. Douglas Fairbanks settled heavy around his waist.

“ So I know from nightmares,” Bucky said, drawing a little closer. Tentacles waved around him, but didn't latch on. “And I know you ain't one.” He held his arms out and Steve moved a little closer, flowing into Bucky's embrace. “I know you're kind and good and you just want to help people. Don't you ever think you're a nightmare, baby.” He smiled and hugged Steve a little tighter, pleased when the suckers on his back pushed them closer. 

“ Sweet-talker,” Steve muttered, but he was still blushing, and Bucky giggled to see it. He kept an arm around Steve's back, using his right to tickle and play with the tentacles.

Lili Marlene was weaving around his fingers when he felt Steve shiver.

“ You okay?” Bucky asked, slipping his arm a little tighter around Steve's waist. “I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“ No! N-no.” Steve gave a breathy giggle. “That just feels really, really nice.”

Bucky laughed and wriggled his fingers, and Steve giggled again.

“ It's like if you were playing with my feet,” he explained, and it was Bucky's turn to blush.

Steve cracked up. “Oh, someone just figured out what he gets up his ass...”

Bucky laughed out loud, taking back his metal hand to cover his face. “Shut up!”

“ I can feel every time you touch them,” Steve teased, as Lili Marlene started to writhe up Bucky's forearm.

In response, Bucky opened his mouth and Steve sighed, and shoved in a thick, deep blue tentacle, covered in thousands of tiny suckers. Bucky moaned, taking it deeper into his mouth, and Steve gave a little shudder.

He gently lowered Bucky to lie back, suspended by a thick tentacle around his waist, and similarly big coils under his head and back. Bucky spread his legs, helped by slender grass-green arms coiling around each ankle, and Steve gave a little gasp as Jack LaLanne wrapped around Bucky's leg, suckers oozing slick already. He eased the tip behind his lover's balls, and slowly, slowly started to slide into Bucky.

“ Oh, baby...” Bucky freed his mouth for a moment and writhed, trying to hurry Steve along. “Oh, sweetheart, feels  _ so _ good. Told you you were a dream.”

Steve chuckled softly, but gave a little gasp when Bucky spread his legs further, begging for more. Another tentacle joined Jack, this one thick and deep red, and Bucky opened his mouth to be filled again. Steve picked the one that tasted like vanilla cream, and hummed his approval when his baby started to suck the tentacle in earnest. Bucky was still a hair too underfed, in Steve's opinion.

He eased a third tentacle into Bucky, smiling when he moaned and thrilling a little to the tight heat, the way Bucky's body felt in his tentacles. This precious treasure given over to him so easily, Bucky relaxed in Steve's hold, trusting him implicitly.

A few more wide arms came up, cradling Bucky safely, just in case.

Steve coiled tiny tentacles around Bucky's nipples, leaving little sucker marks, and pushed the one in his mouth a little deeper. He writhed around Bucky, head thrown back, overwhelmed for a moment with the heat and the taste of it all, gasping a little when Bucky howled around his mouthful and his cock spurted across his belly, body shaking, then going limp and calm.

Steve reached out slow and easy, and ran his fingers through Bucky's hair. He hadn't dared this before – his sweet human had been hurt by people so much, it seemed safer to stick to tentacles. But Bucky sighed into the touch and smiled, and Steve relaxed, continuing to pet him. Bucky, against all reason, felt safe here.

A few more tentacles wound around him, and Bucky smiled, rolling over so he could wrap around the biggest, hugging tightly and resting his cheek on a dappled orange arm. Steve cleaned his belly off with the pearly white tentacles, and Bucky smiled when they tickled, but didn't pull away. And still Steve petted his hair, letting soft strands glide through his fingers. He stopped before Bucky yawned and stretched and wiggled free, though, happy and relaxed and aware again.

 


End file.
